Skip to content
Join our Newsletter

Can you sin your way to heaven?

I’m a sinner, I’ll admit it. I’ve shown up for the Victoria Goddess Run half-marathon having violated the golden rules for success. Well-rested? Nope, a week of insomnia.

I’m a sinner, I’ll admit it. I’ve shown up for the Victoria Goddess Run half-marathon having violated the golden rules for success.

Well-rested? Nope, a week of insomnia.

Well-trained? Negative – a late-spring injury sidelined me from my usual workouts.

Familiar pre-race dinner? Uhm, no. Jungle curry at a new eatery.

Well-oiled playlist? Negative, threw in a bunch of suggestions from friends and decided to wing it.

Family at roadside for support? No. But my daughter did make me a sign that’s sitting at our house.Go Mom Go

Pace band or Garmin to keep on track with each kilometer? No again.

I’ve decided to throw myself on the mercy of the Goddesses and take what comes.

Just being at Langford City Park surrounded by 3,000 women, some in featherlight togas, others in hot-pink tutus, tiaras or superhero costumes is inspiring. These women are out to have fun.

gals in tutus

 

The problem, as I discover at the 1 Kilomtre marker, is that despite the fact I know I am not aiming, nor have I trained for a personal best, I’m competitive.

I pass the marker at 5:49 – which would put me on track for a sub-two-hour finish. Something I’ve never done but have come close to when I’m healthy.

What the hell. I allow myself delusional thoughts of maintaining that pace but deep inside I know I’ve violated the ultimate golden rule – don’t go out too fast.

Kilometre 3 – Feeling good.

Kilometre 5 – I distract myself by doing the math in my head. Believe me, that’s a big distraction. I’m now closer to a 2:05 finish.

I detour to give the road marshal volunteer a high-five and do a goofy dance step to entertain some kids curbside then recall the advice of a hard-core running buddy who said she conserves her energy by wearing sunglasses so she’s not making the effort to squint.

I realize I’m doomed, leaking my energy all over the place like a faulty fire hydrant. She’s wise and fast. Me, not so much.

Kilometre 7 - I know from scoping the route ahead of time there’s a wicked hill from Latoria up Wishart. Sure enough, as a woman behind me realizes that’s where we’re heading, I hear “You gotta be kidding me.”

Kilometre 8 – Chugging up the hill, I pass a woman explaining to her friends, “I’m going to get my money’s worth and take my time.” I’d laugh in appreciation but I’m grimacing.

Kilometre 10 – not quite half way but the math is easy for my possible finish time.

Kilometre 13 – I’m trying to ignore the pain in my right knee. I knew this was inevitable but convinced myself that it wasn’t possible. That’s the addled-logic of a runner. See delusions – Kilometre 1 – I decide to stop looking at my watch.

It’s time to turn on my tunes, after enjoying the first half of the race and soaking up the atmosphere. It’s time to get down to business and dig deep past the pain.

They say you run the first third of the race with your heart, the second third with your legs and the last third with your head.

And boy do I need those tunes in my head. I’ve included songs that hold meaning for me (Rock-a-Hula Baby by Elvis Presley for the Wild Women), or have the perfect beats-per-minute (Blister in the Sun by Guster) or make me smile (Tequila by the Champs).

But I’ve abandoned my usual meticulously prepared order of songs, so I punch shuffle and dig in.

The second tune Papa Loves Mambo starts to work the magic. This is for my mom and dad,  and the thought of them on the dance floor when the mambo, fox trot and rumba ruled.

 

Kilometre 14 – I am coming up behind two ladies in tutus and realize they are running with wine glasses in their hands. I want to join their running clinic.

Kilometre 17 –  I need to think positive and the perfect song shuffles to the surface: Marianne Baker’s What You See is What You Get. I included this song for my sister who schooled me long ago about the power of a postive attitude and visualization.

The lyrics stream into my ears.

And if I change my mind, I change my state

If I change today, I change my fate

So who'm I gonna blame when I'm down and jaded?

Who'm I gonna blame when I'm feeling wasted?

Who'm I gonna blame when my hope is faded?

This is the life that I created

What you see is what you get

OK - I get it. I visualize finishing. Only that – finishing. I’m not going for a personal best or even an average time. I'm not finishing injury free, but I am upright.

I cross the finish line, to the cheers of people lining the finisher's chute and with a grin on my face, slightly gritty with dried sweat. Among the 670 half-marathoners registered, I'm solidly in the middle of the pack.

It’s my 11th half marathon and I’m back to where I started – my 2:11 time is only slightly faster, as far as I can recall, as my first Oak Bay half.

After six years of distance running, my feet look like mashed potatoes and my post-race pedicures are always purple to cover my black toe nails.

Why do it?

Looking at the Goddess faces at the finish line, I know why. Pride in achievement, whether it’s successfully finishing a 5-K walk, 10K run with gal pals or a distance that seems only imaginable to many.

I see a girl about the same age as my daughter with her mom. Both are adorned for the race. Both are beaming.

 

Trish and Brooklyn

It was Brooklyn’s first 5K and I think of my own daughter and know that I have a new goal for next year.

A mother-and-daughter walk/run – a junior Goddess and one that has learned a few things up on the hill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.