Day 210 - Shit Happens

This is a blog post about when things go wrong.

You don't get to not give a kick at the end just because bad shit went down.

Because things went pretty wrong this weekend.

I signed up a while ago for A Midsummer Night's Run, which is an annual run in support of the Division of Rheumatology at Sickkids. Three distances are offered - 5k, 15k, and 30k. I signed up for 30k, thinking it was the perfect distance. It was long enough to be motivating, but not so long that I'd have to do any serious training to prepare. 

It sounded like fun.

Normally the run takes place at the Beach(es - I am not getting into the Beach vs. Beaches debate) neighbourhood in Toronto, and - as far as I knew - this summer's run would be no different. I was happy to be doing a run in Toronto, where I could hopefully get a few friends to come out and cheer me on, then maybe go out for a couple of drinks and some yummy food.

A couple of weeks prior to the race, the organisers sent out an announcement that the race had been relocated due to construction near Cherry Beach, and would now be taking place at Centre Island. Apparently a number of racers withdrew their entry at that point, and I realised belatedly that I probably should have as well. The move to the Island created a logistical nightmare when it came to having friends come over and spend some time before the race, especially because it was a beautiful, sunny weekend, and Figment was taking place on the Island on the same day as the race. Randi and I made it over to the Island in good time, but Katie made it right before I started running, and Cecelia and Sura didn't even get over to the Island until the race had already begun, both after standing in line for ages just to get a ticket and get on the ferry.

The race itself was an absolute disaster.

First, the course wasn't secured at all, and runners were dodging pedestrians, cyclists, and kids left and right. One runner couldn't stop fast enough to avoid knocking over a toddler, and was visibly shaken. I initially didn't find it too terrible, since I was running with a big group of runners in the 3:15 pace group, but once I pulled out on my way up to the 3h pace group, and I was a bit more alone, it got pretty bad - running without a big group meant fighting through the sea of oblivious non-runners alone. 

Second, the course was really poorly marked, meaning we had to rely on a bunch of uninterested high school volunteers to direct us around in between pushing each other, watching Justin Bieber videos, and trying to embarrass one another by yelling, "But I don't want to take my pants off!" Some of the volunteers were great, but the ones that weren't really made the course situation much worse. By the time it got late (the race started at 5:30 p.m.), the course was so dark that we were all picking carefully through the grass, and over steps and bridges, never sure we were still going in the right direction.

I look happy, but trust me - I'm not.

Third, the course itself was truly dangerous. The terrain was uneven, which would have been fine for a trail race, but this was meant to be a road race, and most of us were prepared for a road race. The worst part was the boardwalk, which 30k runners had to traverse three times.

This is where things started going really badly for me.

Around 19k, I was on my second pass over the boardwalk. I was on my way to a good time, probably well under 3h. I was a couple hundred metres behind the 3h pacer, but I know that I tend to run much faster during the last bit of a run, and I was quite sure I could pull ahead of the 3h group and finish somewhere near the 2:45 group. 

As I was starting to pull forward, someone hit one of the loose boards on the rickety boardwalk and the board pushed up just as I was coming to it. I caught my toe and went flying. One of the girls running behind me said it was truly a spectacular fall. All I know is that when I landed I had scraped up my knee, banged up my elbow, twisted my ankle, and somehow left a dirty footprint on my own thigh. The runners behind me (and those who had run over and past me in an attempt not to bail, themselves, stopped to see if I was okay, and I sent them on. 

I got up, dusted myself off, and decided not to continue. 

My arm. Ouch.

I realised I was pretty banged up, so I turned back to find a volunteer who could tell me how to get back to my friends. After walking about a kilometre, and finding neither a medical first responder nor a volunteer, I gave up and figured I would finish. I ended up mostly walking (limping?) the last third of the race, with some brief periods of running. I did end up sprinting in at the very end.

My leg. Ouch.

In the end, I was happy that I'd stuck with it and finished the race. Coming in at3h31, I was sadly way over the time I had projected for myself around the 19k mark, but I know I would have been disappointed in myself had I given up. Over the next few hours, my ankle underwent an impressive growth spurt, and I think I will need to take some time off running to let it heal. I suspect it is just sprained, but it's pretty tough to walk today, and I am feeling pretty sorry for myself.

I found out after the race that several runners had gone down on the boardwalk, and I heard that one was taken to hospital after her fall.

And then we had to wait in line for over an hour to catch the ferry home.

This isn't an inspirational post. There is no heartwarming message, and no punchline.

Here's a picture. I think it's my what the eff face: