That's what the catchphrase is for my race- I needed to recover before posting I guess:) I haven't got photos yet but I'll hopefully get some soon.
Quebec was beautiful, as always. The weather was bloomingly bright (if unseasonably cold for end of August) except for all of Sunday morning, which happened to be during the whole race.
I'll start at the beginning: on Friday, I travelled by train to Quebec and met up with my family, and spent some time with my grandparents and uncles. I haven't the opportunity to go up with my family for a few years, so it was definitely a treat, and so much different as and adult than a teenager too.
Saturday I went with Ruth to get my race kit and pick up some race swag, which is always fun. I bought Liz a headband. Someone from the Marathon de Paris thought Ruth and I were the same age heheh. Riiiight:)
We didn't do much else that day since it was cold and drizzly and it took us awhile to get going.
Then- Sunday- race day. I set the alarm at Grandmaman and Grandpapa's house, and it shrilly woke Ruth and I and it was terrifying to wake up to at 5 am but did the trick. I wasn't too nervous until partway through the morning when the anxiety set in. I ate breakfast in the half-light of the kitchen, and Dad drove me to catch the ferry.
Then- Sunday- race day. I set the alarm at Grandmaman and Grandpapa's house, and it shrilly woke Ruth and I and it was terrifying to wake up to at 5 am but did the trick. I wasn't too nervous until partway through the morning when the anxiety set in. I ate breakfast in the half-light of the kitchen, and Dad drove me to catch the ferry.
That's right, I got to take the ferry to the other bank where the race started; I haven't taken that since I was young and my parents would take us across as pedestrians for something to do. I stood shivering in line, letting the French conversations swell and roll over me- it was like music to my ears. If I may say so myself, French people have a particularly fine sense of humour that doesn't take much to prompt, and gets one through all kinds of pickles.
I met another racer my age in my race and we chatted the whole way across, onto the buses, and up to the starting line. It was great to meet someone else at the race who didn't have a clump of people they already knew.
As for the race itself- I won't bore you with the details but I wore a running tank top in the chilly, damp morning but a few kilometres in I was warm. I paced myself with a few different people and didn't end up finding just one to keep up with. My new shoes gave me problems for most of it and I so badly wanted to walk parts of it, as I was in discomfort a good two/thirds of the time. The hills were definitely longer than London hills, and more frequent, but I love me my hills.
For all that, I loved the race. Really, the course was beautiful and the other runners sportsmanlike, calling "Lâchez pas!" if others stopped. I sprinted in with barely any energy to spare, and ended up with a personal best after all that, hills and all. My family met me just after the finish line, and it meant a lot to me to have their support. There was free massage afterward, which was great for my stiff legs, and they even had the option of instant coffee or bouillon with the post-race food:) Ah, the French.
Me and Ruth
I'll save the rest for another post; as it is, I'm sure only the bravest have read this far:)
A tantôt!