Team Love Training More is pleased to bring you this epic race recap from our athlete Morgan Book!
18 weeks.
992.07kms (yes Coach Erin, I’m keeping those decimal metres).
Two recurring injuries. One BIG goal – Fredericton Marathon… here I come!
After a seemingly rare enjoyable first marathon experience in 2017 at the Freddy Full (3:38:xx mins, race recap here), I knew I wanted to do another and I had a feeling my competitive-side was going to scream for a Boston Qualifying(BQ) goal. So, on October 10th 2017, following a new Half PB at Valley Harvest, I put the words on paper (well Gmail) to Coach and made my thoughts a reality; BQ at Freddy 2018!
This training cycle was truly the ‘Big Leagues’. The increased weekly mileage, the paces, the interval lengths; I knew I entered into a whole new level of training which was necessary for my BQ. With that, came a new level of commitment as well. This time I was juggling more life-factors than last, so I decided – thanks to my amazing, supportive sis – to fully dedicate myself to the Boston Goal. So Easter Weekend onward to the race I committed myself to this, when planning or struggling with ‘fitting it all in’ she’d ask, “Does this contribute to your BQ?”, “no? than don’t do it”. Time to do everything in my power to arrive at the start line as fit and healthy as possible.
Fast forward to 1-week out, my nerves were high and my doubts higher. I was so anxious, scared, worried. My recurring injuries were at the forefront of my thoughts…It wasn’t solely my BQ goal that was daunting me, but based on my current state, finishing the race seemed near impossible. Following a few panic conversations (and emails to my coach), I felt things turn around. Coach Erin: “Yup, you caught the ‘Marathon Madness’ bug, its normal! It means you care.” So I booked two last-minute physio appointments, for both my mental and physical game and carried on with final taper tasks.
By Friday, my excitement to nervousness levels were starting to favour towards the former and I was getting the good pre-race jitters. Carboloading was in full swing, work week was coming to a close and the evening was going to be relaxing before hitting the road early in the morning towards Freddy. Simple right? Never is. That evening we got a call that my incredible Grandmother had suffered a mild stroke. This woman is a total force to be reckoned with, shes overcome so many health battles and broken hearts; she’s the only grandparent I have left now. Luckily, she was where she needed to be and was going to be okay. *Sigh of MAJOR Relief*
Saturday morning… time to refocus – sun’s shinning, cars packed with carbs and the best company; my amazing mother/main cheerleader, my supportive boyfriend Matt, and best friend Julia who was running her ‘come back race’ in the Freddy half. Life was good.
After many snacks and chats later, we land at the Expo in Freddy, get our kits and complete our 15minute shake out run. We stayed, once again, with my oldest friend Sarah; the best host, the kindest person. The rest of the night was ours to relax, eat, stretch and breathe.
10:30pm – race clothes are set out, breakfast prepped, alarm set for 5:45am. Sarah was even kind enough to offer up her bed to the runners – Julia and I – while the rest of them slept on blow up mattress – haha!
5:45am – alarm goes off. The day is here! Sprung out of bed, felt good. Hoofed down my breakfast, had multiple successful bathroom breaks (thank god! Crucial… ), got my gear on and Vaseline coated. As always, my race plan was written on my arm in permanent marker and a big “BQ” right beside it. The sky was blue, the wind just a breath, and the temperatures on the rise. Mom drove us to the start line, a hug and a kiss later, see you in a few hours.
7:20am – We find the other LTMers, take some pics, have our pre-race Gu and final pee. I was nervous but excited, and… somewhat dreading the 42kms that laid ahead of me – wow, that’s a long run.
7:55am – Good luck wishes are shared with Jules and Soph, Megs and I position ourselves near the front and we find others with similar goals.
*Side story – at Run Our Shore, I ran some kms with a man named Alfie. He was a seasoned runner, full of advice and stories. I told him I was running Freddy and had a BQ goal. He told me to find him on race day and he’d help me get my goal.
Jump to 7:56am – I find Alfie. I remind him of our conversation. We make a deal. He’ll help me but im responsible to monitor pace.
7:57am – my sunglasses break in half. Awesome. Great. Its 10 degrees. Suns rising and I have 42 clicks to run with sun in my eyes NOPE. I frantically (and dramatically) am scurrying around trying to find solutions. Amazing random strangers are offering their sunglasses to me, but many are most style glasses and would flop around. I find the First Aider. I ask for a Band-Aid or SOMETHING, ANYTHING to fix this. He has less than an inch of tape. We repair the best we can, and the sunnies are saved. Hero #1 of the race.
8am – Gun goes off, Marathon #2 lets go. BQ Im coming for you.
Feeling that high, that excitement. I’ve never been at the front of the startline in a race before. Running with all these elite runners was a neat experience, the best of the best. We do our best to keep at our 5:05/km pace to start. Megs tends to hit the ground running in a race so I did my best to keep the reigns on and remind her of what we had in front of us. Running across the bridge, over the calm St. John River was beautiful. I took this in for a moment.
Right over the bridge, just like last year, my girl Sarah was there, cheering me on. “Go Morg! You look awesome. Give’r”. I love this. The fuel that gives is like no other.
By 3km, I started to feel a little something, something in my right calve. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WTF! First of all, this wasn’t even one of the injury areas I had been dealing with since mid-February, secondly, last year it was my left calve, third… JUST NOPE. NOT TODAY. So I got quiet. Tried to keep the pace and stay positive, I couldn’t let this get the best of me. By 7km, Alfie encouraged me to stop at the next water stop, stretch it out. I took his advice. Stopped for about 1 minute.
By 8km, It had worked itself out mostly. I noticed Megs started to fall behind here. She had been stopping at water stops for a few seconds walk but I think these added up to make it hard for her to catch back up and force some lactic acid build up.
It was turnaround time, 1 of 4. After this, I felt amazing. My body found its rhythm. I felt strong. Happy. I was leading the pack of runners around me. I felt strong. Its also the time when your passing by everyone else, so its busy on the trail with not much space for movement or passing. I loved this section because I got to see SO many fellow runners. Got to cheer them on, root for me. It passed the time and gave me those warm-fuzzies.
By 14km, the trail has a slow but noticeable incline. This is where I lost my girl, Meg. I could tell she was struggling. I was calling back to her, shouting out words of encouragement, reminding herself to get out of her head, to get through this hill and believe in herself. But this is where I had to make the decision to continue on. As per my coach’s race plan, I didn’t have to discuss the choice with Megs. Coach ordered either of us to just run on if needed. It goes without saying and it also doesn’t mean we don’t support each other or care, no formal goodbye is necessary, we’ll be seeing each other soon. I also needed to remind myself that my time window was smaller than hers, so I needed to push on.
The kms passed, Alfie continued to tell stories, to remind me to watch pace, that there’s plenty of time later on to pick it up. The day started to get hotter her.
Started to see the houses and the bridge so I knew my cheerleader Sarah was going to be there – and there she was! My pace was on track at ~4:59/km. the crowds started to resurface and the cheering continued. I saw the clock right before the right turn onto the finish line marker and it read 1:44:xx – I checked my arm notes and I was right where I needed to be. I love this moment. Its so loud. You can see the Half’ers pushing to the finish. All the emotions. I love this. We veer right of the finish line, and the folks cheer us on, “Way to go Marathoners, see you soon!”. I see my cheering squad – Mom and Matt and tell them I’ll be seeing them soon.
This high fades and you think, okay… just have to do that all again… no problem.. lol! This race marshal had a funny joke I remember, “Oh great return customers, we must be doing something right!” – I laughed. I love a good “dad joke”.
Time to settle in. This is the struggle, this is when I knew I’d start to feel the aches and pains. It was coming. Crossed the bridge, had my final cheer-boost from Sarah and then… all that remained was me, the road, a few clicks, and my guy, Alfie.
We ended up forming a little running team of about 5 or 6 of us. This was a cool moment. A special running moment. The sun was high and warm, the river rushing beside us, birds in the trees, and 6 sets of sneakers hitting the ground in sync as I paced the group. No words were exchanged, just a similar pace and collective support.
By 29km, I told Alfie I was starting to get sore, starting to feel my feet, and I noticed my efforts weren’t reflecting in my pace as accurately as I’d like. I started to panic. I felt like I was running faster than what my watch was telling me. WTF! I needed to be at that finish line by 11:30am… otherwise, well, I didn’t even like thinking about the otherwise.
Approaching the final turnaround seemed like it took a dogs age… “stay on pace, stay on pace (4:51-4:55/km), keep pushing, push”. This wasn’t easy. Not in the slightest. It was flat yes, but not easy. Finally, that damn turnaround point showed it face and damn… that small, simple movement of swapping directions felt like a bus full of bricks smacked my body and dragged me for a few blocks – OUCH!
Final stretch, Morgan. Lets. Do. This. Alfie reminded me of my race plan and that I can start pushing harder now ( … I thought I already was…) and to open up a bit. So I did (e.g. tried). But once again, my 1km pace averages were telling me otherwise. Hanging around 4:59-5:01/km…. cue panic. Real panic this time. Negative panic. The kind that takes your breath away which isn’t ideal when you’re running.. and kind of need to breathe. I tried to steady my breath and remind myself it isn’t over, there’s time, you’re doing great, keep pushing.
33-38kms was… less than ideal. It hurt, it was slow, it was mentally exhausting. I practiced as many of my positive thinking strategies as I could muster, allowed the negativity to flow in and then out, take in the sights and enjoy the journey but damn… this journey was tough AF! Alfie was still chattering away, god love him, but this time… my patience were thin so I was a quiet companion. I let out a few inappropriate swear words between 35km onward, Alfie laughed. At one point, he very literally pushed me while I was having a “I can’t do this” moment. Yes, pushed hahah.
36km – He was starting to feel the wall, the exhaustion and heat by this point. From here on out, its pure mental game. Push. I reminded myself of the past few months, the highs and lows of training, the commitment, the drive the dedication required for this crazy sport – I felt proud of a second, then tired again… awesome.
Okay 39km – waterstop, I took a short meander break… took some liquids, peed my pants a tiny bit (seriously… zero control, the body was running the show now). “Where the F*** is that bridge?”, “I could really be done now”, “my god this is hard”, “okay, yup. A little sit down would be stellar”. At this point, Alfie encouraged me to move along without him. I thanked him for the company, push and support.
THE BRIDGE, THANK GOD! I told myself to take this moment in. The beauty of the bridge and what was behind me. I did. I also told myself to leave the pain box on the other side of the bridge and push, push to that BQ. I had no idea what my time was at this point, I didn’t monitor my pace, I just ran. You training 18 weeks for this moment, GET MOVING!
The crowds helped, lots of support. “I don’t remember the bridge being so long, maybe they built an addition to it while I’ve been out running? Must be. Holy, this bridge is long. Okay, there’s the land”. Less than 10 minutes to go, now’s the time.
I pushed, so hard. Everything hurt, everything ached to be done but I couldn’t sell myself short. As Coach Erin has told me before, “you can vomit, cry, pee, sleep, crawl after the finish line but until then, push!”.
There’s that clock again before the right turn onto ‘Victory Road’. This time, it read 3:29:39… wait a second… am I actually going to do this? Holy sh*t. I knew at that moment my 3:30:xx wasn’t possible based on the distance left and my speed – get over that, Morgan. I did the right turn while passing a bunch of the Road Hammers who cheered me on. The street was mine. The crowds lined the sides, full of smiles and support. This is the moment. I felt like I was flying – though, I’m sure I was barely moving – run strong, run fierce. 3, 2, 1… done!
I F***ing did it! 3:31:06.
I crossed the finish line with pure relief on my face. I folded over as I was given my medal – the tears started. To my left was my support team – mamabear, boyfriend, oldest friend, best friend, teammate – all screaming and smiling. Jules ran out, “ I AM SO PROUD OF YOU”. We held each other and cried. This was such an amazing moment. My best friend PB’ed after a long, hard year of injury and recovery – I was so frigging proud of her. She was right there when I BQed. Doesn’t get better.
Then I wobbled over to the rest, hug for Sophie who also PBed (you Go Girl!), BIG hug for mom and LOTS of tears, hug for my cheerleader Sarah and long hug to the boyfriend. Tears, laughter, hysteria… all the good things. “Man, that was hard.”, “that was much harder than last time”, “I literally peed my pants a few things”, “holy shit, that was tough”, “thank god that’s over” – many things I repeated to them.
I wobbled around, drinking water, taking in the moment, the other finishers… but where my Megs? I started to get worried as I watched the clock tick later and later. There she was, her body language was already reading defeat. She crossed and I hugged her. I knew there was nothing I could say in that moment to help. But I tried anyways. We cried together. I was still so proud of her, Marathon #8 done. She’s so fierce and fit, and without her training with me all season, it’d be lost.
Now, a tradition of mine – checking the official time. I wobbled, barefoot and sunburnt over to the print paper lists. Top to bottom, admiring the paces and finishing times of these elite athletes.
“68 – Morgan Book” – I dragged my finger across the page as I read the data: 3:31:09 gun time, 3:31:06 chip time, *”. But what does (*) mean? At the bottom of the page, the legend read, “Boston Qualifier”
It was there, I got my asterisk!!! I GOT MY BQ!
That’s the moment. That’s the moment I wanted and waited for.
I was beaming, ear to ear. I started to see other folks I knew or met on the course. They asked how I did, “I got my BQ!” we shared the celebration together. I found Alfie and told him the good news, he said he hadn’t doubted it for a second, that I was a strong, smart runner and had it in me since the start. My guy, Alfie – thank you.
It was time for celebratory brunch, so we meandered back to the car. At one point, the rest of the crew was ahead of me because, well… I was moving at a snail’s pace, and I was watching all the other marathoners finish their fight. The cheerleaders still giving that continuous support, the announcer still really everyone names. Man, this sport rocks. I love this. This community, this support for total strangers is unmatched. It made me so happy and warm. Then “My Fight Song” by Rachel Platten came on. I had a moment to myself. I listened to the lyrics, welled up with joy and pride. I did it, you did it. You got your goal, you got your BQ, you were fierce and fought! This is a small, simple moment I wont soon forget.
At brunch we celebrated the Mothers, the PBs, the BQs and the fun.
I still feel like its not real, like I didn’t run that, or accomplish that. Two full marathons, got my asterisk and now am Boston Bound? That’s something I never thought I’d say.
I’m sending a thanks for everything to my coach, Erin. She’s a total inspiration. Her continuous support, kindness and honesty is unmatched. My victory is just as much hers. Thank you, Erin, for believing in me and getting me there.
2 Responses
My beautiful BQ girl. I watched her start this chapter of her life and realized it was just the begin of her novel. She has trained through snow, rain and injuries. She has overcome tje challenges. As I stood at that finish line all I wanted in that moment was to see that ponytail swinging in the wind and that determined face. It was 11:30…where was she. Then I saw her and I knew we had succeeded. It is easy to be proud of such a determined driven woman. Thank you for sharing your life – love mom
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