Québec Marathon des Deux Rives SSQ

Québec Marathon des Deux Rives SSQ completed on Sunday, August 26th in approximately 5:24 – sun poisoning type problem, IV drip and finishers medal included. I signed up for this race because it was featured in the January 2007 issue of Runner’s World as the 6th top “ten marathon experiences you should have in your lifetime.” The views, in fact, breath taking, and I’m likely to run this event again.


The course, though beautiful, is not to be taken lightly.

I remember Pacer Dave telling me at my first marathon in the Palm Beaches that the test of the marathon comes after mile 16, when you still have ten more to go, and the race for PR comes when you have five miles remaining. The clerks at the Running Room, the local running store in Quebec, where I purchased an extra pair of socks cautioned me about the course and to keep an eye on my pace. Because the first half to two thirds of the course is a gentle downhill slope, it may feel easy, but it is actually straining your quadriceps in a way that you wouldn’t really notice until later on.

I recalled these words of advice while stretching, and lining up at the start line. I was nervous and scared, but excited about the promising views. Expecting to hear a gun shot, my heart rate jolted into the beginning of the cardio zone with the firing of a canon. Yes, they fired a canon. Have you ever been within 20 yards of a canon being shot? It’s amazing how mentally focused you become, and the adrenaline rush is entirely unmatched.

Approximately 30 seconds after the cannon, the 5:30 pace crew were off and jogging. I noted the crowd that was around the pace setter, referred as the Pace Bunnies because the pace were written on pink bunny ears strapped on to their headbands. I made mental notes about their clothing so I would have some idea as to who I should try to keep up with should I ever lose my group.

As time wore on, I came across two girls and hung with them for a little while. We were rolling along at 10:20 per mile pace according to Garmin. I don’t recall their names, but the one in the white tank is a personal assistant to two lawyers, and the one in the black is in PR for Neiman Marcus in White Plains. It was PR girl’s birthday that weekend, and her gift to herself is a few days in Quebec, the marathon, to a spa day to cap it all off upon her return.

At some point while the three of us were running together, my Beau magically appeared with my waist pack with a bottle of Pure Vitargo and a change of socks. The girls asked me if he was my husband, and I felt obligated to say that he was. We had found our wedding bands one night after dinner in the old city. He fell in love with the concept of a titanium band after reading a story that a guy had to have his finger cut off to remove the band when he died. While window shopping after dinner, I found a display of wedding bands that were a bit darker than platinum. So we went in, and after an hour of looking through the cases and working with the salesgirl, we walked out with our wedding bands. He was so excited about the purchase that he insisted on looking at them while we sat at the Pub Saint-Alexandre for our post dinner drink. Well, from just looking at the bands, it proceeded to wearing the bands, and finally, to pretending that we are married for the duration of our stay in Quebec. Staying true to our little game of pretend, that was the only time that I have ever declared myself married. It was an odd feeling, and it felt like a lie despite the fact that we’ve been together for over seven years.

After a mile or two, the girl in the white tank eventually dropped off from us in search of a lost friend from a few miles back, and I eventually dropped off from PR girl because she was increasing her pace. I would have loved to cruise with her, but I was worried about my heart rate. It was approaching 80%, and we had only covered 11 miles. From then on, I was going at it solo, minding my heart rate and pace. I was enjoying the views and the glorious day, and a little annoyed at having chosen a short sleeve instead of a tank top for the race. It was rather chilly before the race started, but it was warming up quite a bit well before the canon shot.

I was worried about the hill at around mile 14 / 15, and the beginning of the real test upon my approach. It was in fact, everything that I had feared. The climb was steep and curved. It wasn’t too long of a climb, but it was long enough. The clerks words came to haunt me as I ascended the hill – my quads were hurting in a way that I have never felt before. I’m accustomed to the pain associated with an uphill fight, but I understood the pain that comes with downhill running. Within a minute of this ascension, I felt the underside of my quads near the bone burning up, along with the exterior of my calves. It was such an unusual feeling. Then, as Pacer Dave had advised however long ago, the test was about to begin.

The sun was now thoroughly beating down, and we were heading into the major roadways that are without any sort of shade. I began seeing some of the faster members of the 5:30 pace group, and tried to keep pace with them. By mile 18, I was having hard time ignoring the headache that had been developing since the hill, so I started walking. I walked for a mile, and decided to sit down to change my socks. My bottle was nearly empty, and I started to drink Gatorade at the water stations.

After the sock change, I tried to start the running again, but it was more of sputtering jog than an actual run. I decided to give it a true valiant go when there was five miles remaining, but that effort didn’t last too long on account of the headache and a burning sensation that was running along my torso. The 5:30 pace group had passed me by, but the Pace Bunny was still nowhere in sight. Finally, with two miles remaining, I returned to my jogging pace that eventually evolved into my running pace as I approached my last mile.

My head was on the verge of exploding as I crossed the finish line, but I did finish strong. Normally, this is where the story would end, but in this instance, the story does go on.

I was incredibly uncomfortable, and all I wanted was a cab ride back to the hotel. Because my head was hurting so badly, I could only speak in a whisper, which was a problem because the years of high volume heavy metal has rendered my Beau’s hearing equal to that of a ninety year old. He thought that there was something wrong with my calves each time I asked for a cab. I was so frustrated and the headache was so severe that I nearly started to cry. Eventually, he caught on to my need for a cab, so he ran off to figure out a way to catch one that didn’t require me to walk several blocks out into the area that wasn’t closed off. While he was out searching, I sat under a tree trying to relax and get myself to feel better. There was a woman walking around me who was concerned about my well being. I insisted that I was fine, but after a couple of minutes, two French Canadian male medics came over to me. They basically didn’t speak English, and given my weak whispers of protests, they wrapped two different sorts of blood pressure equipment on me, and pricked my finger for a blood sugar test. Apparently, 31 units of whatever measurement the test uses is low, so a wheelchair came out and I was promptly shipped off to the medical tent.

There, I was given a cup of 7 Up since they were completely out of Gatorade. Two seconds after a tiny sip of soda, and I threw up more stuff than I thought I had in me. This whole while, I had kept my eyes shut to block out the sunlight that made me headache ever worse. I had no idea I had the attention of the entire medical staff. With eyes shut, they gave me an IV drip, which made me feel better within seconds though the headache persisted. I had been cold ever since I crossed the finish line, but I started to shake uncontrollably from the chill. This is when I started to turn blue, apparently. One of the medics that had carted me off into the tent kept asking me, calmly, “Madame? Are you okay?” I replied in my whisper that I was okay, but my Beau started to panic - HONEY! Open your eyes! Honey? Just open your eyes. Your turning blue and you look like death!

So for his benefit, I opened the eyes, and the headache really started to pound away. Eventually, I felt that I would be able to walk a few blocks to catch a cab as long as I kept my eyes closed. The medics was still concerned and gave us directions to the area hospital should my problems worsen in anyway. We thanked them, caught a cab, and hobbled off.

I was really hoping that I would be able to enjoy that one nice day of our stay in Quebec, but that didn’t really happen. I showered and slept for a few hours. It was well past sunset before I was ready to be out and about again.

That night, we celebrated crossing the finish line at Le Patriarche. That was where PR girl had her birthday dinner, and she highly recommended the place. It was, in fact, supremely tasty.

All said and told, it wasn’t a terrible marathon. Afterall, I did finish.