Sometimes I Pretend I’m an Elite Racer
Once, I even ended up on the podium!
Very often I’ve taken a secret pleasure in pretending I’m an elite runner. The fantasy strikes strongest when I’m at a race. Since we haven’t had much of that lately, I rely on a handful of memories, a flash drive of race moments that have flitted through my scattered brain on some recent runs.
I cringe when I remember accidentally stepping on Batman’s cape near the end of a 10k. We weren’t in a crowd either, it was just us and somehow, I misjudged just how wide his cape was. I can still hear his gasp of disbelief: “C’mon! Seriously!” “Oh my god I’m so sorry!” I said about 17 times. Not very elite behavior.
Once, at the start of a race I high-fived the huge furry mascot of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Carlton the Bear. I was so pumped that I slapped his big paw hard enough to hear the words “Ow fuck man,” emerge from somewhere near the bottom of his neck. Very un-elite-like.
And elite racers don’t get dusted time after time in the last 400 meters (of any race) because they’ve misjudged their finishing kick for the millionth time. Turns out my “kick” usually happens about 3 miles from the finish. This is a huge problem during your average 5k.
I confess that part of my prepping routine at most races is to hang near the front, by the start line, where I draw inspiration from watching the elite field get ready to run. Of course, I’m busy too — moving, activating this or that, stretching a bit here and adjusting a bit of clothing there, seeming like an almost-elite — but really, I’m mostly just gawking. And pretending.
The area reserved for these uber runners is almost always a short stride from the start line, usually has a lingering crowd of local press, and assorted coaches, spouses and mates. In rare cases a child or two may be prancing about. There’s a ubiquitous tent, protective of the hordes, housing cozy and convenient spots for the runner’s kit bags, warm-up shoes and other elite runner stuff.
I sound jealous because if I were fast enough, I too would have warm-ups and warm-up shoes, and the time to add them to my baggage drop bag before the start. Where I would keep my racing shoes while I wore my warm-up shoes is anyone’s guess because I don’t have a tent.
But back to me strutting my leg swings and lunges, hanging onto a steel crowd control barrier and staring longingly into the elite tent. I sometimes bubble a bit jealously at the efficient way a springy elite can tie her shoelaces, as if a necessary nuisance keeping her from her warm-up. I’m always irked by the way a lithe and almost blasé-looking track star removes his sweats and looks around as if he’s just remembered he’s racing a 10k today. Although their certain coolness drives me nuts, it’s always in a positive light.
The most upbeat memory I have of that happened at the 2017 Toronto Waterfront 10k. Cue the Chariots of Fire theme and slo-mo soft-focus memory here; hanging onto the barriers, about 5 minutes from the start of the race, I found one of the slick top runners walking back to the start — hands on hips like track stars do — after a stride. She called to another runner somewhere near the start and pointed at their tent: “Hey…I put your keys in your thing. I don’t know, that…thing.”
This tiny moment somehow bathed her in an immediately human light, made her earthlier than the star I was sure she was. Instantly, she was just like us, just another runner in the race. It also helped that I had no idea who she was.
She turned and tore off on another powerful stride, full of grace and grit. It was running poetry. She was a warrior preparing for battle. It was insanely inspiring.
It was so moving that I turned and sprinted my own clodhopping stride past the corrals and the thousands waiting to start. It felt so good that after a short rest I did another. Oh wow, did I ever look and feel…fast. The image of the runner at the start burned in my mind as I slipped into my corral and I started visualizing catching her in the first mile, right after I threaded my way through all these pesky runners.
I also had a heart rate of about 151, which is always a great way to start a race.
The important thing here is that my pretending to be a top-notch racer helped my mindset immeasurably as we got underway. It put a smile on my face and sent all my usual doubts, pains, plans and fears into some dark place, unseen and unfelt. I started having the time of my life.
This particular race was a tornado of energy, with something vibrant and fun happening at every kilometer. At one point we passed a giant “class” with 20 or 30 cyclists atop actual spin bikes cheering us on. Crazy.
Around the halfway mark, we curled onto a large boulevard, passing the finish line on our right. The final 5k was an out-and-back along the water, and now we had a visual taste of the end. Of course, many of us started hooting and rooting as a smattering of the leading men charged across the mats.
Then, a lone figure came into view. Blazing a fiery trail with a neon lime top and orange shoes, she flew past me, strong and deliberate with a fortitude reserved for only the best. Pure strength, pure style. She only had 100 meters to go before I realized I was watching the women’s winner.
And even though I was going in the wrong direction…I was running with her!
Better still, she was the slick racer I’d so related to at the start! The woman that inspired my fantastical journey of…elitism! She had whipped me on this day, but I heard a demented voice in my head say, “Just you wait speedy, I’ll get you next time.” (*See postscripts below for fan fawning)
Watching — and racing with — the sport’s finest is always inspiring. It gives me energy, drive and hope. Pandemic or not, races or not, those are good healthy things. Memories like this one, that come while running through these very tough times, are saviors for my psyche and encouragement for the future.
See you at the finish.
- Postscript One: Turned out the speedster that won the race that day (and yes, even beat me) was Canadian track and road icon Natasha Wodak. She’s been on my mind recently as she’s returned to the marathon after a 7-year hiatus and tore it up at The Marathon Project in December, running a fantastic 2:26:19, the 2nd fastest women’s dash over 26 in Canadian history! We are very proud of her up here in the North.
- Postscript Two: It also turned out I had already out-sprinted 7,000 other runners, winning a trip for two to Run Barbados in a pre-race draw! So here’s a pic of me with both race directors, and Natasha, together on the “podium”!
Photo: Todd Fraser/Canada Running Series
