I love racing. Actually, what I really love is the training that leads to a race. Racing itself stresses me out and, more often than not, I spend the week before a race going through periods of self-doubt and contemplating not starting.

Even with the Chilly Half-Marathon being a favorite race – great course, close to home and lots of familiar faces around me – I went through the same motions the week before race day (March 3rd). This year, my training was solid; I felt strong. But the parenting stress that comes from having a sick son in February created a new set of GI issues whenever I ran. I was so worried about having a GI crisis during the race that I didn’t want to start. Spoiler alert: I did race. Not only did I make it to the start line, but I finished without any issues.

This year, I took toeing the line a little more seriously than I had in previous years. I did a mini-taper (2 days of no running), watched my food intake carefully throughout the week before, and made sure that I was getting enough sleep. I even went in with a race strategy: 5:10 min/km for the first 5-6km, bring it down to 5 min/km if I was feeling good, and drop down again (but no lower than 4:50 min/km) for the last 5 kilometres.

Let’s just say that my race plan fell apart within the first two kilometres. The corrals were very crowded – typical of most races – but these were also very unorganized. I tried to place myself near the 1:45 pace bunny (my “I’m having a great day” goal time) but there were two of them. One was near the start line with the 1:35 pace bunny, and the other was closer to me but definitely out of reach. Somewhere between us were the 1:55 and 2:10 bunnies; I ended up behind the 2:10 pacer. So when the horn went off, I started in a bit of a panic to try to get ahead. Just before hitting the first kilometre, I saw another 2:10 pace bunny and was completely confused. I was running faster than I wanted, worked to slow it down and hoped that the field would line up properly before too long. By 7 or 8 kilometres, I had finally found the 1:45 pace bunny and my rhythm.

There were hydration stations – water and Gatorade – approximately every 3 kilometres along the course, and a porta-potty was near them. At 9 km., I made a precautionary stop and, with the peace of mind that my stomach was actually cooperating, I continued without any GI issues for the rest of the race.

One of the highlights of this year’s race was the amount of support that I had from family and friends as well as encouragement from complete strangers. Members of my triathlon club were scattered at different spots along Lakeshore; running friends who weren’t racing also cheered me along; an unknown stranger at a corner near Lakeshore and Walker’s jumped, clapped and encouraged absolutely everyone, which filled me with her enthusiasm as well as with gratitude for the kindness of strangers. The highlight, though, was the unexpected surprise of seeing my oldest son, who was driving back to his home after spending the weekend with us; he made a last minute decision to pop by the 11km mark and cheer me along.

The best part of racing the Chilly Half, literally and figuratively, was catching up with my friend, Lynn. We are in the same age group and are quite compatible pace-wise. For the last 11-13 kilometres of the race, either I was pulling Lynn or she was towing me. Another friend’s (Esther’s) words kept playing over and over: Don’t Back Down. But, when an asthmatic bubble started to form in my chest around 16K, I sensed trouble. I stopped at a water station to try to clear it but had little luck. “Don’t back down.” I was determined to keep Lynn in my sight and ran after her. The last few kilometres were rough but the constant bob of her ponytail gave me something to chase; I picked up my pace for the last 2 kilometres and finished in 1:43:31, less than a minute behind Lynn, who was second in our age group; I was happy with my third place finish as I hadn’t done that at this race in a few years.

The Chilly Half Marathon course has a reputation of being fast and downhill, but I didn’t realize how downhill it was until the next day; my shins were sore. But I was happy with how I raced and found a new confidence in my ability as a senior runner.

I am grateful for the support that I had from my running community – the kudos and feedback during my training for this race, the support before the start, the cheers along the course, and, of course, the encouragement of my own family who puts up with my running antics on a daily basis while I keep chasing my dreams.