The Toronto Women's 5KM Run

It's 9:27 am and I am somewhere I never thought I'd be. I'm at the starting line the of  Toronto Women's 5km Run. A couple of months ago, I would have told you that I don't run. Now I am surrounded by runners, at least 200 in front and countless others behind.   Thank God Marla is here.

She has manoeuvred us into what she explains is a strategic starting point. 

"You want to be behind a strong fast group. They will pull ahead of us, and the ones behind us will take some time to catch up. That way we get some space and are not running in a big clump of people."

I nod and follow.  I try not to show it, but it's an intense moment for me. The reality of being here almost has me in tears.

The announcer gives the one minute signal. People move up. I see some women on their own, looking for space. Once again I think how happy I am to not be alone. Our friend and running guru Scott is cheering us on from the side of the course. The energy is seriously intense.

"30 seconds," says the announcer. People start moving their feet. Running on the spot. The energy level is dialled up another notch.

The horn sounds. It takes us 20 seconds to get to the gate. I step on the mat. My time chip is activated.

It's a tough start, it's pouring rain and despite my best efforts, I am soaking wet. My body warms up quickly but my hands, feet and legs are cold.  It's a weird uncomfortable feeling.  I want to stop but we haven't even gone one kilometre.

As I am thinking the whole thing through,  I feel a tug on my sleeve.  It's Marla.

"Slowly...slowly...take it easy. Keep a steady pace. You want to get to the end." We run for 12 minutes--a stretch from my most recent ten minute accomplishment, and then walk for less than a minute.

As we start up again,  Marla says "we can walk again when we get to the place where the firefighters hand out the water."  It seems an eternity before we reach them. We pause only for a moment. Volunteers along the course cheer us on...it helps.

As the four kilometre marker comes into sight, I am starting to fade. I tell Marla that I am going to walk for a minute.  She stops too.  I know she can keep going, so I tell her to go on.

"I didn't train with you for ten weeks to leave you now," she says.

I start to run again.  With one kilometre left to go, my lungs feel like I am breathing razor blades and my legs are sore.  I concentrate on picking up my feet.   "Almost there," I  tell myself.   I come around the corner and I can hear people cheering.  As I look up and see the finish line, I am filled with emotion.   In my mind I hear the old taunts and feel the indignity of school yard bullying. I see the demon of being useless at running rise up like an image in front of me.  I laugh in it's face and this time it disappears--forever.  

Freer and lighter of heart, I summon that last bit of energy. I see Scott cheering me on. As I cross the finish line, I am running with everything I've got.  I hear the announcer say my name. I can barely take it all in.

Later that day I get my results.  Although I rank 215th out of an unknown number of runners, with a time of 34 minutes and 19 seconds, it's both a physical and mental victory.  It's an experience that has value beyond the activity of running and a moment I will push me forward in contests to come.







Never quit,

Mary

Coming up next.   Caribbean Adventures.

P.S.  A special note of thanks goes out to my friend and neighbour Marla.  Without her constant coaching and encouragement I wouldn't have made it.  Thanks also to Scott who stood in the rain and cold and cheered us on and took pictures.    You guys rock.