Sometimes bad luck is really good luck.
Montreal Marathon
One day, I decided to buy a lottery ticket. It was my first one, and perhaps the day you could finally call me an “adult”. I was dazzled by the prospect of $50 million dollars. As I suspected we all do, I had already planned how I’d spend the jackpot, and dreamed of the year-round trips I would go on around the world, sitting on a beach, relaxing, eating, drinking, tanning…
But I was a trained accountant, and I understood the maths. I knew it was as close to impossible as you could be. It’s like flipping a coin and landing on heads around 30 times in a row. It’s like finding a very specific grain of sand on a vast beach while blindfolded. You’d be crazy to think you’d get either of these.
And yet, usually we hear about the people that win.
What if…
I had an idea. I decided to show the lottery who was boss. I would buy a ticket, but never look at it. I would keep it unchecked. That way, there would always be a chance I won, but I would have left it uncollected. I would have proved to the lottery that I was boss, and that I didn’t need the $50 million to live my life.
It was kind of silly. But, it had a huge impact on boosting my ego. It felt great, and my confidence went sky high.
For about 8 hours.
The next morning, I caved and looked at my ticket. I didn’t win.
Two weeks later I tried the same thing, I caved again, and didn’t win again. The pull of $50 million seemed just far too strong. I finally accepted that it was best to let it be. I had learnt my lesson.
Over the course of the Hundred City Run, I’ve learned that marathons are far more predictable than the lottery. You can plan for success. You can take steps to get through them. With effective fuelling during the run, you can stave off the cramps. With healthy eating and consistent training, you can handle the distance. With stretching and sleep, you can help recoverability. You can predict the weather, temperature, terrain and traffic. You can prepare and prepare and prepare, and then all it will take is to push through and hope that you had prepared enough. In essence, you can design the ticket to win the lottery and get to the end.
By the 13th marathon, in Montreal, Canada, I now thought had encountered everything, and was ready for anything.
The City
Montreal is the largest city in the Canadian province of Quebec, and is both a beautiful and important place. Technically an island built around a large mountain called “Mount Royal” (get it?), its strategic position meant it attracted a whole host of indigenous populations, most notably the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabeg peoples. For centuries they lived off the land, connecting with the vast number of other tribes through the massive province, until the impact of colonialisation brought the French language, culture and architecture. It’s older city areas match its European origins in the narrow, cobbled floor, but it dramatically becomes more modern in a way that is easily distinguishable.
Unlike Quebec City, which still lives under the heavy influence of its French colonisation history, Montreal serves now as a blended city. French remains the core language, but English is woven far more into the natural tongue. It truly demonstrates that the more west you travel, the further you deviated from the French core of the country.
I had visited the city before when I first moved to Canada in the early years, so my exploration was set aside and I put a little more emphasis into planning a route. I had intention to run the long pathways against the canal. I had prepared my water, electrolytes, clothing, breakfast plan, bathroom plan and route. I was ready for what was to come.
Or so I thought.
The Marathon
The first of the disruptions started in the third kilometre: the World Triathlon Championships were taking place in the very spots that I was trying to run. Large segments of the route were taken up by the racing course, and I was now walking through the thick, heavy crowds, stopping for minutes at a time, instead of launching into a steady pace. Each crossing lasted for around 5-to-10 minutes as we waited for gaps in the athletes to squeeze the public through.
I wish I could say it was a thrill to be amongst them, but I still had 40 kilometres to run, so my head just wasn’t in the right place. I was grumpy and annoyed. Looking back now, I’m not proud of my poor attitude.
Eventually I got running again, albeit after a few more interruptions to cross more spots in the triathlon track. I hit the canal and headed west, targeting a turnaround spot at the distant Rene-Lévesque Park. My mood started to improve as now I could absorb the greenery around me and soak it all in. I hit my stride and tried to settle into the pace I was used to. Now I could get it done.
Enter the second disruption. I had fallen ill with flu a couple of weeks before this trip, and while I had recovered in time, my legs had lost their resilience as I rested. I hadn’t planned for this. I felt my legs slowing, struggling, feeling like lead as the lactic acid built and my body struggled to deal with it as it used to.
At just 17 kilometres, as I turned around at Rene-Lévesque Park, I was already dreading what was still to come.
Disruption #3 came to me on the way back. The day grew hotter, humid. Combined with my weaker legs, I was soaking in the fluids at a rate far quicker than I usually did. I was out of everything by the 25-kilometre mark, electrolytes and all. As I returned to the city again, and felt myself dehydrating, I was now overwhelmingly frustrated. The day had started with disruptions, and they just kept coming. I continued moving forward, but I was slowing.
I arrived back at the blocked triathlon routes. They were still racing.
At that moment, I did something I hadn’t done before. I paused the watch and stopped moving. I took a break from the run. For about ten minutes, I leaned against the fence and watched the triathletes, collecting myself. I took a few deep breathes to soak in what was around me, and what I was trying to do. I watched each triathlete as they sped past in groups, racing each other, giving everything. The sweat and grimace of competition was all over their faces. They were there to win.
This moment helped more than I could have imagined. I was on the other side of the fence, and my challenge was to just finish. If I continued the way I was, that was less likely to happen, so I would just have to make a couple of changes. I didn’t come all the way here to quit, so I needed to make a smart decision.
I made the call. I after a few more stretches, I restarted the watch and detoured inside the city, shuffling down the side streets to find ways around the course. I navigated through the city to find a Shoppers Drugmart, where I paused the watch again and popped inside to buy a full bottle of water and Gatorade.
As I was replenishing, the next disruption hit. The sun had battered down upon the black strap and screen of my watch and had drained it of power. With 8 kilometres to go, I received the dreaded “10% BATTERY” warning and knew I wouldn’t make it to the end. I needed the route data as integrity for the marathon. I stopped the watch and the data uploaded just moments before it died.
The last 8 kilometres were a struggle. Using the phone to record the route, I found my way to the canal again, but by now I was mostly walking through the heat. I felt myself burning up, and just focussed on the liquids and electrolytes.
I finished the run sore and sorry, walking along next to the triathletes. I did very little after that, and just went back to my room to rest.
Reflection
When I look back at Montreal, I make sure not to be too hard on myself. I accept now that it was just one of those days with a whole lot of disruptions that I don’t think I could have predicted.
No matter how much we prepare, there will always be disruptions out of our control. So many other lives are happening all around us, and it’s silly to think that we will be totally unaffected by those other lives forever. Not everything that happens to us is the product of our own decisions.
I never predicted that my illness would have such an impact on my legs. I never predicted that my route would clash with the triathlon championships. I never predicted how hot the day would turn out. The run was a muddled, hectic mess. I had stopped my watch so many times it had shut down on me, deciding for itself that it had had enough.
I felt disjointed and out of place the entire day.
But life is funny.
Because, amazingly, the unpredictability it goes both ways.
The next day in Montreal, as I recovered, a blanket of smoke and ash from bushfires in the northern parts of the province blanketed the city. The city was shrouded it in gloomy, unbreathable air. It was nothing I could have run in.
So, despite it all, I was lucky to have the disruption-filled day I had, otherwise there would not have been a run at all.
Who would have known, eh?
You can’t predict everything. You will never see every challenge coming. Maybe you can prepare for most, sure, but there will always be one more thing.
And that’s what makes the journey thrilling.
So let it happen. Ride it with a grin. Don’t be too hard on yourself. And if one day, you somehow figure out the impossible and manage to predict it all… then I hope you’ll be kind enough to send me your lottery numbers.
留言