21.0975

One of my biggest achievements this year was my first ever half-marathon, which I completed on 29 November 2022. It was not an official race; I just wanted to see if I could do it. I hit the official 21.0975km at 02:18:18, with a pace of 06:33 per kilometer. Not bad for someone who only started running three years ago!

Halfway to half-marathon. Photo by Hanno Rein.

Last time I wrote about running, I was just starting to feel confident in my 10k, and the half seemed like a daunting prospect. I knew I had to change my training style to increase my weekly mileage and my stamina. A dear friend introduced me to the run-walk-run method, and that is what I adopted for the summer of 2021. Then life intervened: we moved house, things got busy. I broke my long-time streak of 16k+ weekly and had a hard time getting it restarted. Part of the problem was looking for good routes in the new place; part of it was my lack of patience for trail running; part of it may have been plain exhaustion.

One welcome addition to my routine was the local ParkRun, 5k every Saturday morning at 9am. It was the first time I ran with other people, and while it was great for community building, my competitive streak also kicked in. Before long, I was posting personal bests—albeit at the cost of nasty exertion headaches. I could still run, I told myself. I settled on a reliable route, from our house to the Trans Canada Trail, and once on it, I could go as long as I wanted, out and back.

ParkRun, 2022-10-01. New personal best of 26:47 on the 5k.

Winter came, and between the bitter cold, snowpack, and ice, my running became sporadic, and cross-country skiing was not nearly enough to replace it. By the time ParkRun resumed in March, I was slow and desperate to get back to form. I managed to get up to 10k again before long, but was nowhere near my best from the year before. I managed speedy ParkRuns again, but the headaches put me out of commission for the rest of the day. Running was not much fun in those days; it was a compulsion, a form of punishment, a source of frustration. I had forgotten that slowing down was part of the point.

It was not until I consciously started to resist the compulsion that things genuinely improved. I read multiple articles on the importance of the “easy” training run. I started monitoring my heartrate and cadence and incorporating some 30-second walking intervals. My goal shifted from meeting a weekly quota to making 10k a regular occurrence, not a big deal. In mid-August, I posted my longest run to date, 13k. That same day, Hanno ran his first half-marathon, rain and thunder trailing him part of the way.

October was a quiet month for running—a season of hikes and backcountry canoe trips—and by November I was running out of time. I wanted to try that half before winter descended again. It was the same sense of urgency that spurred my other big accomplishment this year, my first solo backcountry canoe trip in Algonquin Park, back in September. But just as with the canoe trip, the conditions, both external and internal, had to be just right. I kept going. 10k had become normal. I did another 13k and was not completely dead afterwards. My comfortable training pace was just under 7:00/km.

Then the opportunity presented itself. It was late morning, 2°C outside, cloudy, and a little breezy. I felt good; I felt ready. I gulped down the contents of a gel pack and took another in my belt pocket. It is a vile, gooey thing, but tasted remarkably good after the first 8k. My initial plan was to pace myself at 7:00/km, but somehow, even with 30-second walking intervals every two kilometres, I was consistently faster than that. Hanno drove to the turnaround point and met me with water, strawberry gummies, and lots of encouragement. I was going strong and feeling fresh; I knew I could do it. My timer did not stop, and I kept going. 13k, 14k, still moving well. By 16k, I was getting tired. I rationed my gummies, one for every remaining walking break. By 18k, I was in pain and wanted it over, so much so that I actually sped up on the homestretch. By the time I ran full tilt into our driveway and stopped the timer, my legs were burning, I could barely walk, and all I could say was “Oh my god” and “I can’t believe I did this,” repeatedly. Hanno greeted me with congratulations and a big warm meal, full of carbs and salt.

I do not envision doing this kind of thing often, but it is nice to know that I can. For the moment, I do not think I will aim for a full marathon. It may be simply too taxing, both physically and timewise. But I hope to at least maintain the current form over the winter, and maybe, somewhere down the road, try a real race.