The Winterman

Beyond the very extreme of fatigue and distress, we may find amounts of ease and power we never dreamed ourselves to own; sources of strength never taxed at all because we never push through the obstruction.

- William James

Last week, Ottawa stole a piece of my heart. And most of my body heat.

Marathon #2, The Winterman, took place in the very snowy, very windy, VERY COLD heart of Ottawa. 8 loops of 5-point-something kms that offered views of the city’s skyline, including The War Museum and Parliament Hill. Ottawa was a balmy -40 degrees that day and, according to the CBC, was registered as the coldest capital city IN THE WORLD.

Suck it, Moscow.

Out of 800 runners participating in all the events (5K, 10K, Half and Full) only 30 people finished the full marathon. People were being pulled off the course by medics who smeared runners’ faces with Dermatone and Vaseline to protect against frostbite. Winds blew so hard that snow squalls formed and you couldn’t see anything in front of your own two feet. Exposed beards turned into Santa look-alikes and I lost feeling in my fingers somewhere along Lap #3. The run turned out to be less like a race and more like a survival quest.

The Winterman: You don’t need to be fast, but you’d better be tough.

And I’ll say one thing about the runners in Ottawa: they are TOUGH. Their cold winter runs are shadowed by the humbing statue of Terry Fox, one of Canada's greatest and most courageous athletes who embarked on a cross-country run for cancer research and their routes are lined with streets rich in heroism and bravery, such as that seen on Parliment hill in October of last year.

Before I left for O-town, I met with a survivor who was gracious enough to share her experience with me. Natalie told me that if I was going to fight breast cancer and come out a winner, I needed to be “the champion of my own health.” What she was telling me was to ask a million questions and not feel bad about it, never take no for an answer and never settle for a treatment that I didn’t fully understand.

She spoke like a runner. A tough bugger too, which was why I wasn’t surprised to learn that she’s originally from Ottawa. Natalie never gave up. She pushed and fought her way through a diagnosis that weakens the body and came out stronger on the other side. Without her indomitable will and enviable tenacity, I am quite certain that Natalie would not be here today to have shared her story with me.

Heading into a race, most runners are confident and energetic. Something happens halfway through the miles logged, however, and that confidence – that energy – can start circling the drain. I thought about Natalie and her courageous battle and thought, if she can fight to survive, I can fight to finish.

The truth is, I think about all women who are fighting breast cancer with diagnoses far more serious than mine. Whenever I think about how much it hurts to run, I think about the alternative – not being able to run. At that moment I am instantly reminded of how lucky I am to be healthy enough to run as much as I do and how eager those women would be to trade places with me.

Despite suffering from frostbite (minor but painful) and delirium (funny but real) I had an incredible time.

Figuratively, speaking of course, not literally. My chip time was awful. (Don’t look it up!)

So with a wee break from running (no marathons scheduled for March) and a specialist’s appointment next week, I will be resting my tired body for a while. I will forever be impressed by the strength of Ottawa’s running community and volunteers. I met a lot of new friends who I hope I see again someday.

Preferably under warmer conditions. ;)

Author's note: This blog post is dedicated to Natasha, Marilou and Isabelle.