“I had a good half marathon,” I replied to the friends and coworkers — and neighbors and anyone else who knew I was running the Vancouver Marathon — when they asked how my race went.
The thing is, while this was my slowest marathon (with a time of 4:32, and yes, that means four hours and 32 minutes), I’m the most proud of this race. This was my first full marathon:
- since my knee injury (read: stress fracture of the knee where I unknowingly ran the Anchorage Marathon in 2017 with said injury)
- since becoming a mom
- since the pandemic
- without a training partner
I knew going into this race that I wasn’t at my best fitness level (although, what is best once you have a kid?) There were times when my midweek 8-miler turned into 4 miles. There were times when I counted walking my dog as my exercise for the day. There were times when I would run 1.5 miles in the morning and 1.5 miles in the evening just to get 3 miles in.
This was my ninth full marathon and I am lucky that the eight prior races were all done while training with a friend (usually, Joanna) but this time, I didn’t have anyone running Vancouver with me. It didn’t actually bother me that much since I had a handful of long runs where I chatted with Joanna — who now lives in Spain! — while I roamed the streets of Seattle. While I may have had to skip out on a handful of mid-week runs, I religiously stuck to my Saturday long runs so I felt confident going into my marathon that I would finish the race.
Race day, race ready
The Vancouver Marathon started at 8:30 am which felt late to me. The plus side is you don’t have to wake up super early but the down side (for me) is that you finish the race in the afternoon.
Bryce (and my kiddo and dog) dropped me off near the start area around 7:30 am and I first made my way to the portapotties. I was actually a little worried because I only ended up peeing twice before the race started when using the portapotties.
It was a bit muggy but cloudy. I was happy that the sun didn’t come out because that just makes running conditions worse in my opinion. I did some stretching, ate my banana and drank some more water.
When it was my corral’s turn to start the race, I felt ready. I was a little nervous, but I was excited to see my family at least once or twice on the course. I was proud of my hard work the past four months.
As I started running with my fellow runners, I had a sense of calm. The first 8 or 10 miles were quite enjoyable. Bryce (and kiddo and doggo) were cheering for me just before mile 8 and mile 14. Apparently both times my toddler cried when I “left” her.
My legs were great — or, as great as could be, more on that later. There is a big hill in the first half and the water station was actually low on water but my millennial heart was so happy when blasted a remix of Backstreet Boys’ Everybody. I was also carrying my handheld water bottle so I was in good shape hydration wise.
The second half
Shortly after seeing my family a little past the half-way mark, I plugged my headphones in (I mean, headphone, I just had one earbud in) and listened to my race playlist I had created ahead of time (think Taylor Swift, Lil Jon, BTS and the like.) By this point, runners had really spread out unlike the start of the race. But, there were always lots of other runners around me when you’re running a race with 23,000 participants. (This number may be the combined total for both the half and full, but regardless, it is a large race.) I remember going up a hill and there was an older man who looked like he was in his 70s cruising. I lost track of him but he’ll come back later.
Going up Burrard Bridge — the last hill, with the exception of the finish that literally ends on an inclined street! — around mile 18, I knew what to expect. This was my fourth Vancouver Marathon so my fourth time running up this bridge. There are a lot of spectators at this part, which is a nice boost. I looked for my family since Bryce had said they would try to see me again around here but alas, I wouldn’t see them again until the finish. (He had to distract our toddler with some playground time after I “abandoned” her the second time on the course.)
After crossing the bridge, the course is still pretty well lined with spectators cheering. I was feeling surprisingly really good at this part and was passing other runners. Every time I heard a stranger cheer my name (which was printed on my bib), I would get another burst of energy. This feeling would quickly dissipate though. Around mile 20, I was realizing that everything hurt. My legs were spent. My feet hurt. I couldn’t keep up with my pace and was significantly slowing down. At one point, I walked through a water station — I actually walked through every water station I stopped at since I wasn’t trying for a goal time and it’s actually easier than trying to run and spill water — and I could feel tears forming in my eyes. Every negative thought that could come up, probably came up but the worst one was: I’m a bad mom.
I had this overwhelming feeling of guilt that I had “wasted” training for this marathon the past four months just to have a disappointing finish time. Sure, I didn’t put pressure on having a goal time for this race, but anyone who has ever had a goal time for a race, still has a somewhat idea of what they want their finish time to be. I felt bad that Bryce had to drag our kid (and dog) around Vancouver just to see me for a brief few seconds. And now I was feeling bad that they would be waiting even longer for me now that I was having to slow my pace way down. (Instead of 10 or 10:30 pace, I was at like 12 at this point, I think.) Throughout my training, my long runs were always between 10-10:30 pace. I never did any official speedwork during this training cycle so I figured running my long runs at my race pace would be fine. (Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.)
The pain cave
While the last part of the Vancouver Marathon goes along the sea wall at Stanley Park and is very picturesque, it is actually quite lonely. For three (or four?) miles, you are on a paved path along the water and then a cement wall to your other side. This means there is no way for spectators to cheer. It’s very quiet. You basically just hear the pattering of feet — and your loud negative thoughts, if you’re me.
Like I said, I had significantly slowed down so this meant that everyone was passing me. OK, everyone who was still running was passing me. Not a great morale boost. There are a surprising number of people who just start to walk this part. I had many thoughts of joining these walkers. But, I knew if I straight up started walking, then I may not actually finish the race.
Since I was going so slow, I pulled out my phone at one point — while still technically running — and messaged Bryce:
23.5 mile ish
Very slow now
Old Kristin would have never done this. In fact, this was my first full marathon running with my phone at all. How I kept running after sending this message, I do not know. But, as I usually do when in the pain cave of a marathon, I carried on.
I’m retiring!
With a mile (or less?) to go, I started to hear a runner behind me. It was a male voice telling someone else that this was his last marathon. He’d be retiring from marathons after this one. He sounded like an older man in good spirits. By the sound of his voice, it sounded like he was in a good mood. Upon hearing this, another runner congratulated him.
He then caught up to me. It was the same older man I noticed clipping away earlier in the race! I thought he had long passed me but I guess he had been behind me. He noticed me glance a look at my watch.
“You going to hit your time?” he asked.
“Oh, no. I don’t have a time goal for this race,” I replied.
“Yeah, that’s good! Just run to run,” he said, and then continued to tell me he was retiring from marathons after this one.
I asked him a few questions. It actually helped keep my mind off of my pain to chat with him. I asked him how many marathons he had done, and how many times he had run the Vancouver Marathon. (All of his responses are now lost on me. My mind could not retain the info.)
We were finally close to getting out of Stanley Park and he tells me to have a good finish and he jetted off. Once out of the park, I knew I was close to the finish. But my body was so incredibly spent. My legs were so heavy and in so much pain. My one saving grace was that a blister that had been forming my last few long runs did not appear during this race — thanks to heavily coating my big toe with lots of body glide that morning.
I turned onto Pender Street and kept my eyes peeled to the right for Bryce, where he told me he would be. Before I even saw him, my eyes started to get damp. Tears were forming and I wasn’t even sure why. I was in a lot of pain and I knew it was almost going to be over. As I started wiping the tears with my hand, I located Bryce and my kiddo on the right side of the barrier. They were cheering their loudest for me. I run closer to them and chuck my water bottle to Bryce. IDK, I guess in this state, I couldn’t deal with the “added weight” of continuing to hold this practically-empty water bottle.
I slowly made my way to the finish, which is now several meters (maybe one track straightaway away? Less than 30 seconds?) away. This finish is on an incline and I was feeling it. I think the tears had stopped and I was focused on finally getting that kick in and passing a few people. I dug deep, as I always do right before the finish line, and managed to pass a handful of runners as I sprinted towards the finish.
As soon as I crossed the line, I hunched over with my hands in my knees. A volunteer came over to me and asked if I need anything. I told her I just needed to stand there for a minute. I caught my breath and slowly walked to get my medal and free banana (and granola bards, fruit leathers, water bottle and sandwich). At some point I feel someone tap me on the back. It was the now retired marathon!
“Hey, nice work!” he said. I smiled and congratulated him as well.
It started raining as I walked the few blocks to the pre-determined meeting place Bryce and I had picked: next to the Olympic Cauldron aka “the flames” from the 2010 Winter Games. I had been stressed all week about having to race in the rain, but I ended up not having to worry about that at all. (Note: I love running in the rain and would even prefer a rainy marathon over a sunny one. However, I was more concerned about my family having to spectate in the rain.)
When I was finally reunited with my family, one of the first things I told Bryce was about the retired runner man.
“I’m retiring, too! This was my last full marathon,” I proclaimed.
But, as the day went on and I got food (poutine, matcha shave ice, spicy miso ramen and more), and took a shower and had more time to reflect, I changed my tune to: Well, maybe I have one last full marathon left in me. Maybe I’ll do another one in like seven to 10 years. It would be nice to end with 10 marathons completed, not “just” nine.
So, will she run another?
Now that it’s been almost a month since the race, do I have an answer? Will I run another full marathon? I’m not saying “no” but I’m also not saying “yes” or when. I really will need a long break though. I have also been forced to take a break because a little over a week after the race, I got covid and am still either recovering from it, or I got a second (regular?) cold. Needless to say, I have not run since the marathon. The month of May for me was that I ran 26.2 miles and then was sick the rest of the month.
But, also, it’s not just my knee I am worried about for future training and races. Ever since having a kid, I have had this unexplained limbs stiffness/heaviness. It mostly affects my legs but I feel it sometimes in like my wrists, too. Some mornings I wake up and my legs feel like they have run a marathon (when in reality I did no running the day before.) And this wasn’t just happening during marathon training. I was experiencing this prior to training. So, just imagine what it’s like to run when your legs never feel fresh/well rested and doing that an entire 26.2 miles …
I won’t go through my entire postpartum health history but let’s just say at one point I was diagnosed with inflammatory arthritis for having severe joint pain and went through several different medications (after never having any joint paint/arthritis before being having a kid). I luckily no longer have the joint pain and have been off the meds for more than a year but this limbs stiffness/heaviness has remained. I’ve been referred to rheumatology who then referred me to neurology and when it was decided to not be a neurological disorder, I was told to go back to rheumatology but they were like, “you’re also not our problem anymore” so I don’t know what to do now. Gotta love health care in the USA, amirite?
For now, I’ll just focus on getting fully healthy from whatever virus or cold I have. And, maybe do a a fun run/5k this summer. Whatever comes next is whatever comes next. I’m just happy to be able to still run — and share that with my kid.
otter travel more 