The Worst Race Recap Ever (And the Communities I Love)

Yesterday was the Canada Army Run.

I’ve never raced one before, I didn’t register in time after we moved to the area last year, so this year I registered as soon as I could to be sure I would have the chance.

It’s 22 000 people who run and walk either 5km or 21km, inspired by the Canadian Army.

And, well, I have a soft spot for the Canadian Army so I wanted to take part at least once.

It’s very similar in set up and location to the Ottawa Race Weekend where I ran the half last May.  So I was feeling slightly less panicky than usual about the logistics of the race since I had a general idea of what to expect.  I have some family in Ottawa and my wonderful Auntie was letting the kids and I crash at her place and babysat them for me.  Not just once, but twice, since the opportunity came up at the last minute to meet a friend for coffee on the Saturday night after I arrived my aunt even put the kids to bed for me when I snuck out.

I slunk back in the door around 10.  I already knew this was a very different race than I had run in May.  This was my 3rd Half Marathon race this year.  I was getting complacent from the runner who guarded her nutrition and went to bed at 9 last spring.  I also wasn’t out to race because, well, we went over that.  I just wanted to finish at a decent time and enjoy the experience.  And I didn’t want the race to stop other experiences, like the chance to gab with a friend I hadn’t seen in over a year.  If that meant I was up until much later than intended, so be it.

So up at 6 the next morning I had all my things laid out.  Aforementioned wonderful auntie had arranged a ride for me with one of her coworkers.  So I jumped in a little car with a very nice man and his very tall son who had crammed himself in the backseat of a two door hatchback in order to politely give me the front seat.

He was hoping for a sub-90min finish.  He was also leaving for Basic Training (Boot Camp) in 9 days.
He was adorable.
And just by saying that, I feel old.

I arrived and found the porta-potties.
Very important.  If you get nothing else from this race recap, know the portapottie lines weren’t too bad.

Once I was done there, I checked my bag at a chaotic but fast moving bag check and was left with about half an hour left to start, wandering around all the other racers.

I had gone alone to the Ottawa Half, but this one felt different by myself.  It was a military themed run.  Soldiers and their families were everywhere.  I felt out of place without mine.

Soon my eyes rested on some of the Soldier On participants.  There were an awful lot of runners who were also amputees or otherwise injured.  They started 15 minutes before us and I will admit, I was a little verklempt.

After jumping over the barrier and positioning myself in my corral, I realized it was more than crowded.  Soon, others started coming but like sardines, there was just no room in the barriers for more bodies.  That didn’t stop them.  Soon I was surrounded by tall young men, their Royal Military College shirts sticking to my face whenever I took a breath, my hands held in front of my nose because I was directly behind someones elbow.  I felt very, very small.  And slightly panicked.  Thankfully it didn’t last very long before the cannon sounded and everyone started moving.

I spent most of the run between the 2 hour and 2:05 bunny.  I was okay with my slower than usual but good pace until I hit about 13km.  At that point the ache in the ball of my foot had moved to a full on scream and I found myself limp walking for a few 30second breaks on the grass to give it a rest. 

I passed a guy pulling a tire at one point.  Nothing is better for self esteem than knowing there was a guy going not that much slower than you pulling a full sized tire.

Around halfway I passed a woman on a hand-peddle bike and teared up a little.  She was smiling and laughing and all the runners were cheering her on as they went by.

I spent the last 1.5km thinking I still had to go around a bend.  But I was actually looking at the walkers who were still starting out on a different part of the course.  The finish was right in front of me!  I came in just after 2:10.

I knew my time wasn’t great for me, but I was also proud of myself for sprinting it in.  I am usually so done by the time I hit the last kilometer I have nothing left, it felt good to have a smile and final push those last few hundred meters.

I sat in the finishers area and stretched while I ate my yogurt.  I took in the chaos of the event and the quiet around my little spot on the grass.  I texted Dh to tell him I was done, and asked someone to take my photo so I could send it to him.

My aunt had brought the kids to pick me up and found me outside the fence.
I got to see a friend I don’t think I’ve seen since 2002 at the same spot.  She had run the 5k and was waiting for her hubby who had run the half.

The good thing about tattooed arms is people are generally confident enough that you are you and come and say hi.

It made my heart happy to see her enthusiasm for her race, and we made plans to run a 10k together in November closer to home.

I had to go get my bag so my kids convinced us they needed to stand in line to crawl into a LAV.
Seriously. 
They have driven in tanks, LAVs, Coyotes. So. Many. Times. 
It just never gets old for them.

I spotted a friend of Dh’s in uniform near the stage and decided to wander back and say a quick hi.  I had originally intended not to bother him because I felt bad for taking up his time in all the chaos, but he gave me the best hug and smile.  It reminded me why I was there.

Sometimes the army makes me furious and postpones courses and rearranges plans and makes me nuts.

Sometimes a soldier gives you a hug and you are reminded the army also gives the kinds of friends that would be hard to find anywhere else. 

Post race I had a 2.5 hour drive home with 3 kids, lunches to make and laundry to do.  Because life still happens even when my legs are sore and my stomach can’t decide if it still feels queasy or hungry.

But there was an experience I am glad I had.

Last May in Ottawa I reminded myself I am a big girl and with or without Dh I can go to a big city and run.

Yesterday in Ottawa I reminded myself that as I get older and stop caring what people think, I really am a woman who tears up when they play the anthem and who is honoured just to stand in the middle of a crowded race and soak it all in.  How many times will I ever get to be surrounded by both the military and racing community at their very best?

I got some ink added to my sleeve a  bit ago that I wasn’t sharing because it screams  LAME ARMY WIFE and yet, I got it anyways.  Because I like it.  And it’s my arm.  And now seems like a good enough time to show the world (you know, the 10 people who read my blog). 

I am who I am and I’m not defined by my husband’s job. 
But I’m all kinds of stupid in love with him, proud of who he is and proud of what our little family has accomplished through it.

So I have dog tags tattooed on my arm
(for my American readers, no, really, that’s what dog tags look like).

 Judge me all you want (I would if I were you).  But they matched the poppies anyways.

I am of the type that don’t wear a race tshirt until I’ve finished the race.
Like a medal, I want to earn my shirt.

But now that it’s done, I had to convince myself this morning that no, it was not the right fashion choice for groceries and errands on the town today.

I told myself I was taking some time off racing after Tough Mudder but the post race happy has set in and Ottawa race weekend is looking good already.

I think I’ll grab a latte and my foam roller before I make any decision.

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