My Marathon

by Craig Colby

Okay. This is starting to feel cool.

My cousin Lou and I are drifting with a long river of runners into the Direct Energy Centre at Exhibition Place to pick up our pre-race packets for the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon.

The conference room is draped in running gear, nutrition supplements and enthusiastic volunteers. I open my pre-race packet, a red bag/backpack, to find ads, tasty giveaways, and most importantly my timing chip and my running bib. My name is printed out in big letters just above my number. CRAIG 4288.

Yes. This is starting to feel cool.

That feeling had been missing for more than a month.  5 weeks ago I was 20 kilometres into a 30 kilometre run when I realized I was starting to limp badly. I flagged a cab home. By the time I got into the kitchen my right foot could barely support my weight.

A visit to the local physiotherapist revealed the culprit - really low arches.  I started rehab. A week later I ran again. I was down the block and around the corner before I had to turn around and come back. The marathon is a month away and I can’t even run one kilometre.

 More stretching. More stationary bike rides. I even got some advice on how to run differently. I thought I was running on my forefoot but apparently I was not doing it enough.

I gave the new method a try. It seemed to work at first. Then, one week before the marathon, about 5 kilometres into my planned 13 kilometre run, my right calf tightened up. I stopped immediately. Every remedy I could find at Shoppers Drug Mart came home with me.

The final insult came on the Thursday before the race. I got a cold. I thought it would be just a stuffy nose but it just got worse and worse leading up to the race. Since I have sleep apnea a stuffy head means I can’t sleep with my CPAP. This device blows air down my throat to keep it from collapsing at night. Without it I wake up, just a little bit, about 400 times an hour. The night before the race a combination of cold medication and nasal sprays allows me to wear the device.

So this cool feeling is especially welcome.  My participation had been in doubt, but despite the cold it is game on.

My cousin Lou is a police officer from Austin, Texas. His wife Joanna and 8 month old daughter are here as well. Lou is always in amazing shape but he’s trimmed down even more for this. Our other partner was supposed to be my older brother Jim, from New Jersey. He roped me into this by sending me his registration form for the race. There was no conversation prior just the implied message “I’m going to run a marathon in your back yard. You can come watch me or………”.  When I asked my wife if she was okay with my committing the time to training she just said “we already both know you’re going to do it.”  Unfortunately Jim had to drop out with a calf injury. Jim and his wife Lynn are here anyway to visit and to cheer us on.

The morning of the race Lou and I catch a cab down to the start line. It is overcast. The temperature is around 9 degrees. We are meeting my brother Scott and his wife Natasha. They are going to carry my backpack with warm clothing and some supplies we may need later in the race. I wondered if Scott would join us. In fact the night before I asked him “Have you been secretly training and are running the race tomorrow?”

Scott’s reply was “why would I do that?”

When he left I said to Lou “you notice he didn’t deny it”.

We see Scott and Natasha down the street. Scott is dressed in running shoes, black shorts, and a black and blue short sleeve windbreaker over a black tech shirt.  Lou said “are you running?”

Scott pulled up his jacket and showed us his bib.

I love this about Scott.

So we pose for a picture then the three of us walk into the starting pen with thousands of other people. It takes a full 11 minutes before we get through the starting gate and the chips tied into our laces are activated.

The three of us are running down University Avenue past the opera house on our left, into a canyon of glass and steel towers.  Our pace is casual, but the pulsing energy around us is anything but.

We turned left onto Wellington and see an even more wonderful site. Jim and Lynn are there cheering us on. I know it is killing Jim not to run this but you could not see a trace of that on his face. He is in full on support mode, and when Jim is full on anything it is impressive. High fives all around and on we go.

We slide through the crowd as the race goes east then south on to Lakeshore Boulevard where it heads west. This is something else. The Gardiner Expressway towers over us and a sea of humanity bobs up and down in a concrete cavern.  We stop at the second water station. I have Gatorade and water.  My plan is to fuel up at each one. I’m not going to give dehydration or energy depletion a chance. I have belt full of energy gels as well which I will take every half hour to 45 minutes.  When I look up I can’t find Lou or Scott. I look back. Nope. I walk back. Nope. So I move ahead. There is Lou in his orange running shirt. I am wearing orange as well so that I am easy to spot. We are off. Lou stops to stretch occasionally and Scott and I usually do the same. Lou has run 5 previous marathons and Scott one so I am taking cues from them.

The mood is festive. There are a lot of people cheering on the sides of the route. Man I could get used to this.  As we move towards the Exhibition grounds we start to see signs.  At the Princess Gates I laugh out loud when I see a young woman’s message “THIS IS THE WORST PARADE EVER.”

It’s not much longer before we see the leaders coming back the other way. They are lean and their strides are long. They look like a different species, humans gene-spliced with greyhounds. One comes by dressed completely in a Flash outfit. That broke the spell a little bit.

As we move along I keep looking around to keep track of Scott and Lou. We are fairly close but the crowd of runners is huge. It’s easy to get lost as you dip and dart around people. I look back and see Lou stopping to stretch. He waves me on.  That’s okay. He’ll catch up later. So on I push.

 Off to my right is the 4:40 bunny. He is a sleek young man in his 20s with the time 4:40 pinned to the back of his windbreaker and grey construction paper bunny ears stapled to his hat. His job is to pace people who want to finish in 4 hours and 40 minutes. “No way. I am not taking 4 hours and 40 minutes to finish this race.” A week ago I wasn’t sure I’d be able to run. Now I’m getting competitive. My foot feels fine. My calf feels fine. I move past the 4:40 bunny and starting passing people.  I see one of Scott’s friends and his wife on the side of the road so I run by and give him a playful fake punch in the stomach.  Don’t worry. Scott’s coming.

At Windermere Road the course turns and goes back East. At the turn I see Natasha. I give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. The support really inspires you. No, I don’t need anything from the pack. I feel great. And I don’t want the 4:40 Bunny making any ground on me.

So now I’m going east. Lake Ontario blows us a brisk kiss. I see Scott coming west but not Lou. Curious. Did he get ahead of me somewhere? Did I lose him like I almost did at the second water stop? Could he be sandbagging with all the “I don’t care about the time talk?” After all he has run a 3:30 marathon. Granted he was 27 at the time, but still. I’d better try to catch Lou. I reach into my zipper pocket where I have a baggie containing a card with my name and number on it (in case I collapse), Tylenol and Motrin (for pain relief later) and $80 (in case I need to cab it home) and my Ipod.  I take out the Ipod and dial up my first race playlist which I’ve named Persperation.  The opening piano chords of “Prove It All Night” rings in my head.  The steady beats of these songs get me into a good running groove as I move past the 15 kilometre mark.

Just shy of the Rogers Centre the path splits in two. On the left the half marathon runners peel back off into the city. On the right the marathon runners carry on. A lot of runners drift off to the left. I’m grateful for the room, but it gets a lot lonelier.  I haven’t been running with anyone for a long time.

I see the Westin Harbour Castle hotel ahead. That’s where Jim and Lynn are staying and to no surprise there they are waiting for us. “Yay Craig!” yells Lynn. “Looking good bro” Jim yells with a big smile on his face.

“Have you seen Lou?” I said.

“No, hasn’t come through yet. Do you think he’s ahead of you?”

“Yeah, I thought he might have been sandbagging.”

Jim and Lynn look surprised and laugh. But I can’t stay and talk. I have to not only stay ahead of the 4:40 bunny, I have to catch the 4:30 bunny.  And he is out there.

Up ahead looms the halfway point. I promised myself that I wouldn’t make any decisions about how I was going to race until I knew how I felt at the midway point. After all I missed 5 weeks of training. But I feel good. I feel the distance but I have life in me. So I make a decision. I am going to surrender to the less appealing parts of my personality. I am going to let my competitiveness rise to the surface. I am going after the 4:30 bunny. And I will pass one person at a time until I catch him.

I put on my next race playlist, Inspiration. The Rocky theme pumps in my head. “Trying hard now, it’s so hard now, feeling strong now”. Let’s go.

We turn south on to Cherry Beach. I’m passing a man probably about 5-10 years older than me when a teenage girl runs up and yells “I love you Dad. I’m so proud of you. You are awesome!” She runs with him. Ahead are a crowd of his friends with inspirational verses from the bible. I have tears in my eyes. I didn’t think that this experience is going to be so emotional, but it is.

On down Cherry Street I go and my hamstrings are starting to tighten up.  When we make the turn I stop to stretch. The benefit last about 45 seconds. As I head north I see the 4:40 bunny. He is way to close. Then I see Scott and Lou running together. “How are you doing?” I ask. Scott says he’s feeling it. Lou asks how I am. I say “my legs are tight”. Lou says “stretch”.   No need for that. I’ll just reach into my side pocket for my secret weapon. I’m going with the Tylenol first, then I’ll save the Motrin for another 10 kilometres. My left hand reaches down to undo the zipper. Huh? It’s already undone. Uh-oh.

The pocket is empty. The baggie must have fallen out when I took out my Ipod.

This is a shot. There will be no relief. No place to hide. It’s going to be me and this experience.  I decide to get over it. I can’t waste any energy on what I don’t have.

The race turns east on Commissioner’s Road, past movie studio hangars. It is bleak and this area is ugly. We are 25 kilometres into the race. Despite the tightness in my legs I’m doing okay. A few people are passing me, but not many. I am still picking off people.

There’s another dip south on Leslie street. Then we turn around and come north .The water stations are becoming more welcome. Soon I will be at my maximum training distance, 29 kilometres. When I ran 26 kilometres I was counting down stop lights as I approached home. When I ran 29 I felt a lot better. Still, after this everything is a mystery.

I turn right back onto Lakeshore Boulevard. The next turn is north on Coxwell. I hope to see my wife Nancy and my sons Shane, 7 and Curtis,3, there but this is not guaranteed. Sophia was running a slight fever this morning so that may need some extra attention. Curtis is also a wild card. Three year olds aren’t known for patiently waiting on a curb for an hour in the cold win to see if someone runs by.   I hope they will be there, but it’s a crap shoot. I turn north on Coxwell at the movie theatre. I look ahead. No family. It’s a letdown, but only because I am already so emotional. I grab some Gatorade, water and eat another gel. I have to keep going.

I turn right and head into the beaches. I am past 30 kilometres. It’s no man’s land.

Despite everything I feel surprisingly good. I’m still moving.  We are on Queen Street going east through the Beaches. I love this part of town with its quaint shops and pretty little parks. Nancy and I take the boys to a playground down here.

We hit the 32 kilometre mark and I say to the person next to me “just 10 k left”.

He says “you’re an optimist man”.

I say “We just have to keep going.”

I see his name tag. Shea. Cool. Like the stadium.

Step by step my legs are getting heavier. I am counting on seeing the kilometre markers go by for motivation but I haven’t seen one in a long time. I reach for my Ipod. I have an emergency playlist but I’m not ready for that yet.  I turn on my usual running playlist. Emeinen’s Lose Yourself sung by Detroit’s Selected of God Choir pumps into me. Yes. This is good. I am no longer passing people.  People have started to pass me. And it’s not the fast people either. I am into a different zone now.  I am spending more time at the water stations. I’m walking a little past the end of the table. When well wishers say things like “you got this Craig” I soak it up. The gels are no longer going down so well.  The Gatorades are a little acidic too. My fuel options are limited.

By the time we turn around at the eastern end of race and go west on Queen Street I am struggling, desperate for some markers.  As I head west I look at the east bound runners for the 4:40 bunny. I see him. I’m still ahead. Do I still have a shot at the 4:30 bunny? Do I care? Can I afford to think like that anymore?

I see Scott and Lou. Scott says he is hurting. Lou doesn’t say much. I can’t remember what I said even after I said it. The thought crosses my mind to stop and wait, but it doesn’t stay.

Shea and I are on the same pace. People are passing me. I pass some of them when they stop to walk. I am no longer trying to pick people off. I am no longer trying to keep from being picked off. I am trying to keep moving forward. I reach for my next playlist, Desperation.  Bruce Springsteen’s Lonesome Day starts it off. “It’s gonna be okay, if I can just get through this lonesome day.”

I am almost at Coxwell again.  Will I get a familiar face? Wait. Who’s that on the corner/ Hey,it’s my good friend Larry Bambrick. He has a big smile. Up goes his hand for a high five. “IT AINT SO BAD! IT AINT SO BAD!!” He yells. I had borrowed that from Rocky III for our Tough Mudder obstacle course experience last November. As our hands slap I say “it really, really is.” I am at 36 kilometres.

Onto Eastern Avenue we go. I can feel a crowd beside me. I look to me left. I see the grey construction paper ears. It’s him. The 4:40 bunny has caught me. There’s nothing I can do about it.  On we go. It’s not too long before he says to his crew “it’s time to walk”. Good. I can still stay ahead.

As I push on through I see something else moving up on my left. It’s Larry on his bike. “Is it alright if I ride with you?”

“That would be great. “

As we move down Eastern Avenue we talk. I’m grateful for the company. At least the solitude is over. Anything helps because there is no way to describe what I am going through.  I am moving slow. My legs have been injected with concrete. Am I running? Am I shuffling? I’m not walking. Yet. I promised myself I wouldn’t walk except through the aid stations.  I am about to break that promise.

“Larry. I have to walk. I have to.”  I stop and walk a bit .”I’m just walking to the lights” At the lights I start running again.

Then he’s there again. Not Larry. That other guy. The 4:40 bunny.  I look at him and say “ I have been trying so hard to stay ahead of you.”

He looked over to me with blank eyes. “Oh, I’m not on pace anymore.”

I’m not even being passed by the 4:40 Bunny anymore. I’m being passed by the sad shell of the 4:40 Bunny.

You’d think this would motivate me. It doesn’t. All I have left is me, the remaining distance, and the will not to quite. And Larry on his bike.

People at the side of the road starting yelling “you’re almost there”.  We’re at 39 kilometres.

Larry said “when my brother Dave ran his marathon he said he hated hearing that. ‘I’m not almost there. I can see how far away the finish is’.”

It’s a good point. Toronto’s skyline looms in the distance like Oz. It might as well be. Will this ever end? Am I going to make it? Yes. Yes I am.  And I’m not walking in either.  Maybe just a little.

As we approach the Don Valley overpass a cold headwind hits us. “Man that’s a strong headwind” Larry says. It’s an innocent comment but my emotions are raw. In my head I say “keep it positive Larry.” It’s not admonition. It’s a plea.

Larry and I chat about mutual friends. We start up the overpass, one of the few hills on the course. I don’t mind running hills. I’ve always been good at it. As we move up a cold rain starts to hit us in the face.  I laugh. “why not?” I say. Larry thinks I’m talking about a mutual friend’s personal life. He says “yeah why not, why shouldn’t she”.  I think that is funny too.

We are starting to get into the city. I stop and walk a little bit here and there. I want to limit the walks though. Time is not a concern. I just want this to be over. 2 kilometres left.  I start talking to my legs. “Come on you bastards”.

“Thanks for running with me Larry.”

“Oh no problem. “

“I really appreciate this. You’re a good friend. You don’t really get that many good friends.”

Larry looks ahead and rides along.

The steel and glass are closer. We are less than a kilometre. It’s happening.

“I’m going to make a push at the end” I tell Larry.

We both look ahead and see a small woman running in a style that reminds me a straw broom sweeping a floor. Larry smiles “at least finish ahead of her”

800 metre left. “That’s two laps” I say to Larry.

“Two laps” he says. “I’m going to leave you to this.”

I pick it up. I don’t know where the boost came from but I am running now, grimacing and pushing. I feel the wind on my face. I am passing runners again.  700 metres left. Really? Still that far? Keep pushing. Keep moving past all the people who had shuffled past my carcass in the last kilometre.

500 metres. Where is that damn finish line? How long can I keep this up? I’m not stopping.

I see Natasha ahead. It’s a relief. I’m aware of people cheering but just barely. There is only time to dig. There is only me and finishing.  I just don’t see a finish line.

The race turns north on to Bay Street. There is the finish line. A digital clock sits on top of a red arch. I hear my name over the loudspeaker, but it’s just noise. I keep running.

I am blowing past familiar faces from the race. I am closing on someone just about to cross the finish line. Hey it’s Shea. I like that guy. He said “just keep running with me. I’m not fast.” How did he get so far ahead of me? Should I try to pass him too?  I might just be able to do that.  I have a few metres left.

Forget it. I’m here.

I throw my hands over my head and cross under the arch.

I’m here. I’m really here. It’s over.

I stop and look ahead. It’s over.

A brown haired woman with glasses and a big orange parka walks up to me and says in a gentle voice “are you alright?”

I don’t know how to answer the question.  I stand silently looking at her.

She says “do you need medical attention.”

“I don’t need help”

I walk ahead to a group of smiling volunteers. One of them gives me my medal. It’s heavy and gold. Man have I earned this. I move up to get a silvery warm up sheet. Looking back I see Natasha. She has my backpack. She makes a motion to say “do I need anything.” I think I nod.

She runs up the barrier separating spectators from runners. I ask for my sweat shirt and say “go watch Scott finish the race” I don’t want t ruin that for her.

Damn. There are empty boxes but no bananas. I only see peels. Someone hands me a bottle of water.

How far back are Scott and Lou? I’m going to watch them finish. Can I stand here? No one is chasing me away.

At a white barrier just beyond the finish line I watch people finish. I’m wrapped in the silver sheet holding my sweatshirt.

Suddenly I see a familiar face coming across the line. Hey. It’s the 4:40 bunny! When did I pass him?

I walk up and say “way to go”. He was struggled but he finished. I sure can relate to that.

He looks at me and says “I am so sorry.”

I say “Don’t apologize to me. My goal was to finish ahead of you.”

He stares blankly then moves on past.

It doesn’t take long before I see Scott and Lou coming up Bay Street. They look good. I’m sure they don’t feel it.

Scott and Lou cross together. It feels good.  This is something else.

We find Natasha and head over to the massage area. Lou had booked one. Unfortunately they are overbooked. Lou passes on it.

Scott had his cell phone on the run and has updates. Nancy and the boys were at Coxwell but the wait was too long for a 3 year old. I know it must have been tough for her to leave. I am grateful they were there. I can feel their support. I also find out that someone found my baggie with the money and called the house. Wow. Honesty exists.

It’s time to head home. When we get there Nancy shows me the sign Shane made “Go Daddy Go” the Gs are backwards. It’s beautiful.  She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you” and gives me a big hug. I needed this. Better than any medal. Almost better than finishing. Almost.

I look up my time online. 4:55:32.9

This is not the time I had in mind.

But you know what? 5 weeks ago I couldn’t put any weight on my right foot. 4 weeks ago I had to stop after a run down the block.  A week ago I hurt my right calf. 3 days ago I got a cold. 2 nights ago I could barely sleep. 

Today?

Today, I ran a marathon. 

I had every chance to walk away and didn’t.  I own this.

 This is my experience.

This is my marathon.

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Craig Colby is a television executive producer, producer, director, writer and story editor. He runs a storytelling consulting and production service for businesses. Craig can be reached at craig@colbyvision.net.