This is why I love the National Capital Marathon (NCM) in Ottawa. Ottawa is a city that welcomes activity and the active. It is also easy on the eye. I have always maintained that if I am going to walk 42.2 kilometres as fast as I can, I prefer to do it where I can enjoy a few visual delights along the way. Ottawa’s superb combination of a scenic route that can be savoured for an entire 42.2 kilometres, crowd support to cheer you on when the scenery is not enough, and exceptional race organization makes the NCM a “feet down” winner!
I confess: I do not wake up on race morning feeling this optimistically ebullient. Often, I find myself questioning which is worse: the thought of walking 42.2 km or walking 42.2 km. Every event I enter I wake on race day morning to the sweet tones of my too-reliable cell phone alarm, programmed to go off three times on three minute intervals, experiencing an ache in my stomach, a weight in my body and a general anxiety that together are screaming at me: Lee, couldn’t brunch be your preferred Sunday morning activity!
Strangely, and thankfully, my feeling of hesitation (OK, even nausea!) always dissipates by the time I have gone through the ritual preparations. Listen to the weather report. Prepare herbal tea in that hideous hotel coffee pot. Ensure chip is secured to shoe. Munch on multi-grain bread with tahini and marmalade. Apply Vaseline to every potential chafing point. Get dressed according to weather report with additional layers to stay warm. Prepare sweat-check bag. Braid good-luck pigtails (I forgot those for the last 2 races and my times improved – I might have to re-think my coiffure!). Tie shoes perfectly. Re-tie shoes perfectly (it never works the first time). Exit hotel room. Go back to hotel room (I always forget one thing – Sunblock? Hat? Gloves?).
At the start there is always toilet tension. Yes, it’s so hard to know when to call to it quits on voiding that last little residue from the morning tea. Usually it is not worth missing the race start. This year in Ottawa we have fun at the start. Each year the participants for the walking event increases by at least double. We chat to Chris Baron, who is preparing to challenge the world record for jump-rope skipping an entire marathon. I never ask him if he wears out the skipping rope. Later, I find myself wondering if he wears those ropes out with that much skipping…not to mention a shoulder joint or two.
In the first 15 to 20 seconds after the start gun fires, I find a little bit of the early morning anxiety returns. At every start it is so tempting to keep up with the leaders – a real challenge when you have runners starting with walkers. Fortunately, it does not take long to find a comfortable groove and begin enjoying the scenery. In Ottawa, the scenery is fantastic from the first steps. We walk toward the Parliament buildings away from the start line beside the National Arts Centre, turn left to walk by the eternal flame, turn right to cross over the bridge to Hull. A quick look over my right shoulder finds the Parliament buildings and Peace Tower silhouetted against the rising sun. I am inspired to take a photo.
We pass the Museum of Civilization on our right, proceed to cross the Alexandria Bridge where we get another stunning view of the Parliament buildings, Peace Tower, and the National Gallery silhouetted by the sun. The next section of the race takes us past the Mint and the National Research Council. We take a right turn for a detour along the Rideau River. Finally, I manage to pass two women who have been running since the start. I check their bibs and see that there is no “W”, for walker, on them. They must be runners who, knowing they are slow, opt to start with the walkers. (Later, I discover that they are, in fact, listed on the walking results... as is the support crew for Chris Baron.). Just before 11kilometers I get the word that the elite marathon runners are coming through. This is always a highlight of any event that has an early start for walkers. A silent pack of eight to ten Kenyan runners slide past me. They are born to it and it is always a thrill to see them in action.
We turn back onto Sussex Drive and pass the Prime Minister’s residence, through tony Rockcliffe where there is an abundance of beautiful homes and embassies, the Governor General Gardens and then back along the river heading to the Alexandria Bridge for a second crossing. During this time the main pack of runners passes fast and thick. My walking speed relative to these 3:40 and 4:00 runners is slow. It is challenging to believe that I am maintaining a good pace. It feels like my feet are wading through mud. My watch tells me a different story but it remains discouraging and I have to focus on staying focused.
After we cross the Alexandria Bridge and pass the Museum of Civilization we are diverted to a private road on the grounds of the Scott Paper company that cuts close to the Ottawa River Rapids. I remember last year being refreshed by the sight and sound of rushing water. I don’t notice it this year as a terrific pain seizes hold of the metatarsal and plantar tendon areas of my foot. I give myself permission to drop out of the race if it doesn’t improve by the 21 km point, when we will be returning to the start area of the event. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, in half a kilometer it has eased enough that I take note of the latest visual masterpiece in Ottawa, the National War Museum. I must feel better because I take a photo!
As I cross over the timing mats at the half way point I am a few minutes slower than my pace in 2004, but pleased that the foot pain has disappeared and ready to tackle the rest of the course. There is always something about making it to the half way point that gives me a boost of energy. Every step means less distance than I have already walked. Inevitably this euphoria has a limited life and by 25 kilometres it hits me how far there is to go until the finish line. That’s when the mental game really starts. It is absolutely forbidden to think about how far it is to the finish. I can think about how far it is to the next kilometer marker, or how far it is to the next water station but nothing any further than that.
Pains come and go over the next 10km and I try to keep an eye on the scenery which remains stunning: the canal on the right, waterfalls on the left as we make the turn into the Carleton University campus. This is my least favourite part of the course because we have to deal with some traffic accumulation. Soon, though, we cross the bridge over the canal. Our next turn has us heading in the direction of the finish and it feels good – home stretch. Mentally, I am strong.
Up until now, the sun has been hiding behind a welcome screen of clouds. Now, the sky is clearing and it does not take long for the day to heat up dramatically. Wet sponges at the Experimental Farm are worth my entire life-savings. I feel like throwing myself against a life-size wet sponge! What I do is take off my hat and completely soak my face and head. I’m tempted to leave the sponge under my hat but it is a bit bulky and it would drip over my sunglasses. I worry about the people further behind me walking the full marathon and those in the half marathon because their late start time means their entire race will be in the heat. Within a few kilometres of the sky clearing, the heat is taking its toll – physically. I no longer take photos.
Every time I get to a shady section I remove my hat to let off steam – literally! The going is getting tough mentally. This is the first race I have walked where I start to question if I can make the last few of kilometers. With just over 2 kilometres to the finish, someone in the crowd is holding up a sign that says “Dig Deep” That’s just the advice I need. For some reason that sign reminds me of the two inspirational people dear to me that I have lost this year. It reminds me that while we are here, we do have to challenge ourselves and that challenge doesn’t happen without difficulty.
So, for the last 2.2 kilometres, and especially the last .2, I do dig deep. There are hundreds of spectators lining the route to encourage me. Sometimes their encouragement weakens me at the knees. To accept such unconditional support is not always easy. I have to put on mental blinkers so that each heel lands solidly ahead of me and each toe push-off is as strong as the last.
I cross the finish line and the relief of completion brings tears to my eyes. This one was tough. Possibly even worse than the thought of walking of it. I gratefully accept water from a volunteer. I shuffle over to a volunteer who is removing timing chips and try to lift my leg with my hands to the rung of the barricade so that she can remove my timing chip. I can not do it. I just slide my leg toward her on the ground. I’m grateful for this volunteer who is helping me so that I do not have to bend over, sit down, or lift my leg even 4 inches off the ground. Next, I stand waiting for my medal. I hear the volunteer ask the person next to her if walkers get a medal. I am too completely exhausted and overwhelmed to be offended or hurt. She hangs the medal around my neck. Now, she knows for next year. Maybe, one year, she’ll try it herself.
So, what is worse the thought of walking 42.2 km or walking 42.2km? As it is
for so many challenges we face in life, it is the anxiety of the unknown that
colours everything black. It is the anxiety of the unknown that makes the thought
of walking so far somewhat preposterous, vaguely absurd, and completely daunting.
In reality, walking 42.2 kilometres is somewhat preposterous, vaguely absurd,
and completely daunting. It is tough. Despite all that, I can say with absolute
certainty that the opportunity it affords to dig deep is life affirming in a
way that Sunday brunch can never be. Except, possibly, Sunday brunch after the
marathon.