Race Report: Toronto Waterfront Marathon

I’m back from my third marathon! Those 3 hours and 15 minutes on the race course were an expression of months of training and time invested so it’s special when it all comes together for a great day. You may know me as a runner, but I don’t actually race marathons often! Each of them is still a cool/special milestone in my life. My first marathon was in 2018, my second was in 2021, and I ran one this year. Complete the pattern and that means I’ll see you back here in 2027.

Note: Just looking for my experience using the V.O2 app and the VDOT system? Check out the training section below.

Why this particular marathon?

The idea for Toronto started with the running club I meet up with 1–2 times each week. Atomic Habits fans will recall how identity (“I’m a runner”) and a group (“my friends are runners”) influence the actions we take. I’ve met some amazing people there who I’m blessed to call friends-friends now (i.e. not my “running” friends) and this year we thought it would be fun to travel as a group for a race with some sightseeing to follow. The Toronto Waterfront Marathon in the fall is one of Canada’s largest and most well-organized races, and that made it a good pick. Bonus for me: Toronto is an amazing city by worldwide standards and, despite having seen a lot Canada already, I hadn’t visited yet.

About that broken arm…

Some of you know that I broke my arm badly in March 2023 while exercising (I knew it was bad when the X-ray technician gasped at the first glimpse of the scan). It required surgery to repair and that experience dramatically changed my approach to fitness. I learned the hard way that I’m not invincible. This also meant adjusting my approach to be less about pushing limits and more about living to exercise another day. Setbacks are significant and I still don’t have even close to the strength that my arm once did. I might never have it all back! I’ve come to terms with that.

So for running, this new approach meant not going into the training block with a particular time goal in mind, or even a desire to get personal record (PR). Instead, I would train hard yet conservatively, with the intent to run my absolute best on race day.

Training

I started building up my cardio fitness in April at around 35 kilometres per week, but training started in earnest once I got back from Korea in June. I had my eyes on the Edmonton Half Marathon as a midpoint race in August. So it’s fair to say my running “season” lasted about six months this year.

The following is not a formula for success, but is a record of what I did. It’s brass tacks and a good candidate for skipping/skimming unless this kind of stuff excites you (yes, all eight of you).

• Over the training block I increased my mileage by 10% on the weeks I felt recovered and strong. That peaked at 90 km (55 miles) per week in the end.
• I started by running four days per week, then increasing to five and eventually six. I increased the number of running days per week when individual easy runs were taking too long to complete.
• My long runs never exceeded three hours which I think was the right call.
• The biggest difference in this training block is that I had three “quality” days per week instead of two. Quality refers to a hard day like a long run or a speed workout. The other 2–3 runs during the week were easy. Taking them easy meant I was recovered enough to “drop the fucking hammer” on hard days. (Not sure where I pick that phrase up but it's stuck)
• I think I could’ve ramped up faster and gotten to six days of running per week sooner. But you know I took a very conservative approach this time around (see the part about the broken arm above). I didn’t get injured (yay!) but I definitely left some fitness gains behind (I’m okay with that)

The above mostly comes from the famous running coach Jack Daniels (No, not the whiskey because that’s his actual name.) I hear his approach has some flaws and has since been improved by others, but I love the simplicity and it works great for me. I’ve poured over his training book, but his company also ships an app called V.O2 that makes implementing his method drop dead simple.

Summary: I finished the training block with no injuries and very high compliance with the training plan. That’s a great feeling and confidence booster going into race day.

Race day

You know what isn’t a great feeling on race day? Getting to the start line and realizing your race bib and timing chip is still in your hotel room. This is why we have buffers people—in both time and money. So: bib acquired → back to start line → re-adopt the “let’s do this” mindset.

The race started and I felt great immediately. Toronto’s course is flat but there’s a small uphill in the first two kilometres of the race which then descends gradually over kilometres 4–8. I knew that by the time those uphill and downhill sections were done I should be locked into my guideline pace—something between 4:37/km and 4:40/km. (Note: I didn’t treat this as an aspirational “goal” pace, but instead as the realisitic guide that I should be capable of hitting based on training. Small but important mental shift.)

The middle kilometres clicked by with aid stations, gels consumed (maple syrup, natch), and some inspiring cheer sections. Then, the key moment in many marathon courses: the point where the half marathoners go home and the marathoners go further.

In my past two marathons the sense of relative ease disappeared around kilometre 28. That’s when I’ve historically started to feel the work. Imagine my surprise at how great I was doing post-28 this time.

I’m guessing my nutrition strategy helped. I stuck to 200 calories worth of gel or maple syrup per hour (yes, let the Canada jokes flow like our golden rivers of edible sap). This is more than I’ve eaten in past races. I also essentially doubled my hydration by drinking electrolytes and chasing with water at each aid station. In the past I’ve alternated between picking up electrolytes and water at aid stations.

But around kilometre 33 the ease disappeared and that was okay/expected. It has to get difficult eventually. I can’t remember where I heard it, but this quote has been insanely helpful for my pacing: “the marathon is a 32 km warm-up and a 10 km race”. Physiologically I knew I was capable of continuing because of all the training, but one by one, different parts of the body started screaming to stop. The quads feel every step, the shoulders tighten, the right achilles tendon aches.

My only two tasks for the last 45 minutes of the race:

1. Taking the next step
2. Mentally transforming exertion and pain into pure sensation, not judging if the feeling is good or bad

Kilometres 33 to 39 were simply hard, and kilometre 39 even ends with a small but challenging hill, but it’s all (metaphorically) downhill after that. I felt that energy going into the finish line at 42 km. In 2021’s marathon, the urge to walk at the end was strong. I remember myself saying “this hurts so much, why does it matter to go so fast, I’m already getting a PR”. This time I’m proud to report a slightly older and wiser me was on course and no bargaining even started. I ran it right into the finish line, not letting up at all. Bliss followed. I immediately fired off text messages to my family back home thanking them for their help. Then I met up with my friends and we basked in the afterglow.

Recovery ⛱️

Here’s a Nike ad with exclusive footage of me walking around the day after the race (not actually me, but you get the idea). I’d say the wobbly feeling lasted for three days. Fourth day was stable but still some soreness. I went for my first run one week after the marathon. The recovery plan said 35 minutes so I took it easy, but I could feel an unordinary amount of fatigue after only 20 minutes. I finished up the run okay, but it’s clear there’s a lot more recovery that needs to happen.

What’s next ⛷️

No running races (hah). Going full multi-sport mode this winter. Can’t wait to get in the pool for a swim, ride the bike indoors, do some more strength training again, and go cross-country skiing. Next year I am pondering a season of sprinting instead of endurance running, so we’ll see what happens. Live to exercise another day.

P.S. Yes, it was a personal record 🥇

Second Cities and Past Lives

Last October I was visiting Victoria for the first time in seven years. The plan was a fun weekend running a half marathon and spending some time with friends. The fun happened for sure, but being in the city also flooded my mind with memories and some what-ifs. These weren't the regretful what-ifs, mind you. These were the curious kind. 

See, at one point back in 2014 my life could've taken a left turn, but I decided to go right. Returning to Victoria brought that left turn back. 

The Persistence of Memory

Years ago, Victoria was a cornerstone of my life. I worked for a company there which meant many trips to the place. I never lived in Victoria, but it became my second city—a place that wasn’t quite home, but was about as close as one could get. 

Although in August 2014, it almost turned into home. My then-partner and I had pens in our hands, about to sign a lease agreement for a condo in the city. We backed out of the meeting and found refuge in a coffee shop seeking clarity. Was this actually the right decision for us? We couldn’t tell, but we also didn’t have enough positive signal to go through with it. So we didn’t. 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but despite all the visits for work and vacation, that trip would be one of my last to the city. 

That's why the recent visit surprised me. It turns out seven years does little to erase spatial memory. You probably know this feeling. It's like going back to where you grew up or visiting a neighbourhood where you lived after moving out. Sure, I navigated Victoria well enough to find all my old favourites. But this wandering was more than simply moving through the world. It had this emotional layer and even a few what-ifs. Would this have been my favourite cafe? Is this the route I would've used to walk home from work? Would I have met a new friend at this bookstore?

Past Lives and inyeon

At the same time, two stories were on my mind and no doubt influenced this reflection on the what-ifs. 

A week before the trip I watched “Past Lives”, Celine Song’s semi-autobiographical film. I couldn’t get out of my head! I guessed then what I know now—the film ended up being one of my favourites of 2023. 

Here’s the log line: 

Nora and Hae Sung, two deeply connected childhood friends, are wrest apart after Nora’s family emigrates from South Korea. 20 years later, they are reunited for one fateful week as they confront notions of love and destiny.

Setting aside how moving and thoughtful and beautiful the film is, it introduced to me to inyeon. Inyeon is a Korean word for fate or providence. But it's reserved for describing relationships between people. In the film, Nora talks about inyeon: 

It’s an inyeon if two strangers even walk past each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush, because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives. If two people get married, they say it’s because there have been 8,000 layers of inyeon over 8,000 lifetimes.

Now, the film also pokes fun at the absurdity of this cosmic destiny. Nora mentions it’s “just something Koreans say to seduce someone”. Right before she motions to her housemate to give her a kiss. But it’s easy to see that even though Nora is logical and disregards fate/inyeon, she still leaves room (and hope?) in her heart for this idea. 

This romantic idea struck a chord with me too. It made me wonder about my connection to this city and how the events there would shape my life in (yet) unseen ways. 

Knowing the other timeline

Ted Chiang wrote the other story on my mind at the time, called “Anxiety Is the Dizziness of Freedom”. He describes these devices named prisms which, after activation, create two divergent timelines. Now stick with me. Prisms also allow communication between the two timelines after the moment of activation. 

Here's the implication of prisms. You could start a prism before a decision and communicate with the you in the opposite timeline. That is, the you who did the opposite of what you did. 

In an imaginary world full of possibility, my mind (of course) immediately went to love. Sure enough, there’s some exploration of that in the short story, too. One charater activates a prism, then leaves a long-term relationship. Months later they check on their alternate self to see if they're happier for staying. Prisms can provide that certainty, unlike a typical what-if which is only speculation. 

What could have been

So much has, of course, happened in the years since deciding not to live in Victoria. My then-partner is gone and new ones have showed up. I have new friends and I’ve had other jobs. My hobbies are different, too. But most important, I like to think that I’m a better person. One who would make the same decision as my younger self did, but with more grace and care for those around me. I like to think I would do better to save them from inconvenience at best, and turmoil at worst. 

It’s not hard to imagine how life could’ve been different had I signed those papers. That’s what the most recent trip reminded me of after seven years of forgetting. But it’s also impossible to count up all I would lose from the past seven years too. What if I jumped from this timeline where I stayed in Calgary to the one where I moved to Victoria? New friends gone in an instant. Precious experiences vanished. Lovers like they never happened. 

The Victoria trip might've been about running a half marathon with friends, but it ended up being an invitation to reflect and think about the choices I’ve made, how they've shaped me, and a curiosity toward the what-ifs. 

So may your what-ifs do more to excite and motivate, than terrify and paralyze.

To 2024 🥂