As mentioned in my previous post, I went into the Georgina Marathon with three goals:
A Goal: Run a 2:54 marathon and achieve my Boston Qualifier with a meaningful buffer.
B Goal: Finish the race healthy and ready to resume training shortly afterward.
C Goal: Finish the race and have a good time.
I achieved my B and C goals, but not my A goal.
And given the circumstances and the cards I was dealt on race day, I’m quite happy with that outcome.
This post is a recap of how the race unfolded, what I learned, and where my running journey goes from here.
Not the Race-Day Conditions I Had Hoped For
Race morning brought an unexpected overnight heat wave. The temperature at the start was approximately 19°C—about 10°C warmer than I had originally hoped for.
On top of the heat, I was still fighting the virus I had picked up during our trip. I had essentially no airflow through my nose, my sleep had been poor for weeks, my HRV was at rock bottom, and I was even starting to develop a cold sore on my lip.
Not exactly the ideal combination for attempting a sub-2:54 marathon.
Then, on race morning, my coach contacted me with some news I didn’t particularly want to hear.
I needed to adjust my expectations.
“4:35/km Is Non-Negotiable”
My coach told me that, given the conditions and how I was feeling, I should start the first 5 km at 4:35/km and then reassess.
I was honestly shocked and disappointed by his recommendation.
I had spent the entire training block preparing to run approximately 4:00–4:15/km, and 4:35/km sounded painfully slow. Starting at that pace would also make catching up later for a Boston Qualifying time extremely difficult.
But my coach is the expert, so I decided to listen.
In fact, he made it very clear that 4:35/km was not a suggestion. It was non-negotiable.
Not 4:30/km.
Not 4:33/km.
No faster than 4:35/km.
I was specifically told:
Don’t be a hero.
He was trying very hard to hold me back.
As it turned out, he was absolutely right.
Race Morning
My alarm went off at 3:00 a.m., and I immediately ate my race-day breakfast: a ripe banana, two plain bagels with jam, 500 mL of beet juice, and an electrolyte tablet, totalling approximately 240 g of carbohydrates.
My wife and I arrived at the race site around 5:45 a.m. I started my warm-up routine and, of course, made several trips to the washroom for some last-minute “weight loss.”
Before the race had even started, my right calf began to feel like it was cramping.
Perfect.
I massaged it aggressively and tried not to think too much about it. Interestingly, I experienced something very similar before my previous marathon, so I suspected race nerves were contributing.
Thankfully, once I started running, my right calf didn’t cause any problems.
The First 5 km Told Me Everything
After mingling with some other runners and singing the Canadian national anthem, the countdown began.
At exactly 7:00 a.m., we were off.
I followed my coach’s instructions almost perfectly:
| Kilometre | Pace |
|---|---|
| 1 | 4:35/km |
| 2 | 4:37/km |
| 3 | 4:36/km |
| 4 | 4:39/km |
| 5 | 4:38/km |
By the end of those first 5 km, I realized something.
My coach was right.
My A goal was no longer realistic that day.
Even at this slower pace, my heart rate was already sitting around 160–164 bpm, with a perceived effort of approximately 6/10. Under normal conditions, that same effort would typically correspond to somewhere around 4:00–4:10/km.
I was disappointed.
For a moment, thoughts like “What is even the point of doing this?” started creeping into my head.
Then I remembered why I had created three goals in the first place.
My A goal might have disappeared, but my B and C goals were still completely within my control:
Finish the race. Stay healthy enough to resume training afterward. And have a good time.
Once I accepted that, something interesting happened.
I felt liberated.
I no longer had to chase a number on the clock. I could simply run the race that my body and the conditions were allowing me to run that day.
And I actually began enjoying myself much more.
A New Marathon Pace for the Day
If 4:35/km was my marathon pace for the day, then there was no reason to speed up.
So I settled into that effort and stayed there for approximately the next 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Everything remained relatively controlled until around the 30 km mark.
That’s when my left calf—a known weak spot—started hurting.
Shortly afterward, I began developing pain in my right quadriceps, another area that had previously caused me trouble.
This was where I had a decision to make.
The old version of me probably would have tried to push through it.
This time, I slowed down.
I dropped toward approximately 5:00/km and monitored how my legs responded. The discomfort improved, so I tried accelerating again toward 4:35–4:40/km.
The pain began increasing again.
Message received.
Over the next few kilometres, I experimented with my pace until I found a sweet spot where the discomfort remained manageable without progressively worsening.
For the final 9 km, that ended up being approximately 5:00–5:20/km.
I was still experiencing some pain, but it wasn’t getting worse.
Cardiovascularly, I wasn’t particularly taxed at that pace. My heart rate had dropped into upper Zone 2 to low Zone 3.
But cardiovascular fitness wasn’t the limiting factor anymore.
My legs were.
And I had absolutely no interest in repeating the May/June injury debacle.
3:21:12
I crossed the finish line in:
3 hours, 21 minutes and 12 seconds.
Average pace: 4:46/km
My final rankings were:
| Category | Result |
|---|---|
| Overall | 84th / 634 |
| Men | 68th / 415 |
| Age Category | 29th / 124 |
That’s considerably slower than what I had envisioned when I started this training block.
But given the heat, illness, poor recovery, and leg discomfort, I’m quite happy with the performance.
Most importantly:
I finished.
I enjoyed the race.
And I didn’t destroy myself trying to rescue a goal that was no longer realistic that day.
A huge amount of credit also goes to my coach for insisting that I start at 4:35/km. Had I stubbornly gone out at my originally planned 4:15/km, I suspect the second half of the race would have looked very different.
Sometimes the smartest racing decision is the one your ego doesn’t want to make.
What I Learned
1. Listen to Your Coach
I’m very glad I kept my ego in check and listened.
My coach, Lee Grantham, is an experienced marathoner and ultramarathoner and a former British 100 km champion. His expertise, insight, and guidance over the past 15 weeks have been invaluable.
Race morning was perhaps one of the clearest examples.
I didn’t want to hear 4:35/km.
But I needed to hear it.
The lessons I’ve learned from him during this training block will continue to benefit me for years to come.
2. My Legs Fell Apart Again
There is a pattern emerging.
When things begin to break down late in races, the same areas repeatedly seem to cause problems: my left calf and right quadriceps.
That’s something I need to address.
More running-specific strength work will definitely remain part of the next training block. I’m also considering getting a professional running analysis once I’ve recovered to look for potential strength or movement imbalances and determine whether there are technique-related factors I can work on.
My aerobic engine may be getting stronger, but the chassis still needs work.
3. I Became a Wiser Runner
This might be the lesson I’m most pleased about.
In previous races, I took pride in how much pain I could tolerate. I raced through cramps and discomfort, sometimes turning a difficult race into weeks of post-race setbacks.
This time, I made a different decision.
When the discomfort arrived, I listened.
I slowed down.
I experimented until I found a pace that didn’t progressively aggravate my symptoms.
And I protected myself.
After the Georgina Marathon, I was obviously sore from running 42.2 km, but I was still well enough to go sightseeing with my wife over the following two days.
That’s a very different outcome from my previous marathon.
If recovery continues to go well, I should be able to cautiously resume training next week.
To me, that’s a successful B goal.
4. I Might Be a Salty Sweater
After the race, I noticed crystallized salt all over my body from the dried sweat.
It was pretty impressive.
I’m considering getting a sweat test in the coming weeks to better understand my sweat sodium concentration and refine my electrolyte and hydration strategy for future races.
5. I Need a Better Anti-Chafing Strategy
Another lesson learned the painful way.
From around 30 km onward, I developed significant chafing between my thighs. Eventually, the skin started bleeding.
Not pleasant.
I’ll need to reconsider my race-day clothing and experiment with anti-chafing strategies well before my next marathon.
6. My Fueling Strategy Worked
This was one aspect of the race that went extremely well.
I successfully tolerated approximately 90 g of carbohydrates per hour from gels without any gastrointestinal problems.
That’s a major improvement and something I want to continue developing.
Just like cardiovascular fitness, the gut can adapt to repeated fueling practice. In future training blocks, I’ll experiment cautiously with whether I can tolerate higher carbohydrate intakes, potentially working toward 120 g/hour during selected long sessions.
For now, though, 90 g/hour with no GI problems during an entire marathon is a big win.
7. I Need to Be Fit Enough to Qualify Even on a Bad Day
Going into this race, I realized that I was depending on too many things going right to achieve my Boston Qualifying time.
I needed good weather. I needed to be healthy. I needed good sleep. I needed my legs to cooperate. Essentially, I needed the stars to align because I simply didn’t have enough fitness buffer to absorb multiple things going wrong.
This time, several things did go wrong.
On a bad day, I ran a 3:21 marathon.
That gives me a very clear goal for the next year: I need to become fit enough that my bad-day marathon is still a sub-3-hour marathon.
I don’t want my next Boston Qualifier attempt to depend on perfect conditions. I want to build enough aerobic fitness, running economy, strength, and durability that when something inevitably doesn’t go according to plan—because something almost always doesn’t—I still have enough margin to achieve my goal.
Next time, I don’t want to need the stars to align. I want to build a bigger buffer.
What’s Next?
First: recovery.
I’ll spend the remainder of this week recovering from the marathon and catching up on work, family, and everything else that has accumulated during race week.
If my legs continue to improve, I’ll cautiously resume training next week with easy running and light strength work. I’ll also get back on the bike for some low-impact aerobic training.
Then begins the next chapter.
Over the next 12 months, I currently have four races planned:
| Date | Race | Priority |
|---|---|---|
| October 24, 2026 | Great Trek Half Marathon – UBC, Vancouver | B Race |
| March 7, 2027 | Tokyo Marathon | B Race |
| April 18, 2027 | Vancouver Sun Run | A+ Race |
| September 2027 | Georgina Marathon | A+ Race |
The Great Trek Half Marathon and Tokyo Marathon will primarily be races for fun rather than events I specifically peak for.
From now until Tokyo, the plan is to spend approximately six months building my aerobic base—gradually developing a bigger engine while continuing to strengthen my legs and improve durability.
I won’t complete dedicated race-specific blocks for either the Great Trek Half Marathon or Tokyo. Instead, they’ll fit into the larger training process.
Then comes the Vancouver Sun Run.
That will be an all-out A+ race. By then, I’ll have been running consistently for approximately two years, and I’m very curious to see how quickly I can cover 10 km after another long period of aerobic development.
From there, the focus will gradually shift toward the marathon again.
And in September 2027, I plan to return to the same starting line at Georgina.
Same course.
Same goal.
Another year of training behind me.
Another attempt at Boston.
I didn’t get my Boston Qualifier this time.
But perhaps the biggest lesson from this race is that progress isn’t always reflected by the finish time.
This time, I raced smarter. I adapted when circumstances changed. I controlled my ego when my A goal disappeared. I protected my body when my legs started hurting. I finished healthy enough to enjoy the days afterward.
And now, instead of spending the next two months digging myself out of another injury, I can hopefully begin building again.
The Road to Boston continues.
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