Apparently it is both unlucky and uncool to wear your swag-bag race shirt during a race. Those in the know suggest wearing the same clothes you train in to avoid any wardrobe malfunctions whereas douchebag* seasoned runners consider wearing the race shirt to be a rookie mistake. Race shirts should be earned, and apparently training and race fees don’t count.
Admittedly, despite having half a dozen race medals on my wall already, I had not heard about these rules until the night before my most recent race.
If you’re a runner in this city, there is one race which rules them all. New York has its marathon. Boston has its marathon. Toronto has its marathon. Halifax has the Bluenose Marathon. The Bluenose is the largest marathon event east of Ottawa, and it boasted nearly 14,000 participants this year. Many of the roads in our city shut down for the event, and if you live anywhere near downtown, you’ll see racers jogging to the start line, running mid-race, or crossing the finish line.
It is nothing short of inspiring.
Big things usually start as whispers; a hint of a possibility. The Bluenose Marathon was the Big Thing that convinced me to start running. As a non-runner, I envied people who could make their bodies endure speed and distance. I wanted to do that. I wanted to look like that. I wanted to get together with the rest of my city and test my physical limits, like that.
But I didn’t run. I couldn’t run. I hated running.
Still, the whispers nagged.
What if?
Maybe someday?
Why not?
It was five years ago that I first told myself I would run the Bluenose 5K race next year. I was just about to get married and despite having a gym membership and a goal to rock my dress, stress and busyness got in the way of all the weight I was hoping to lose. Maybe running was the way to go. Maybe I’d be ready in time for the next race. Next year.
That first year of marriage flew by and I entered May much as I did the previous year, except with an additional 20lbs of wedding weight. Next year, I told myself, as I climbed the ten flights of stairs to our apartment’s treadmill, feeling inspired once again.
The year that followed was full of surprises and life changes. When May rolled around again, my arms rocked a brand new baby and my body had taken on its new motherhood shape. I loved being a Mom but I hated my body. As marathoners raced by our new apartment, I told myself that maybe I’d be able to participate next year, when I had fully recovered from childbirth.
May snuck up on me once again, but seemingly quicker this time. My body had gone through a marathon of motherhood and miscarriages. As the Bluenosers raced through my city once more, I laced up my sneakers for the first time and ran for a few short minutes over those same sidewalks that cheered through pink and blue chalk for the marathoners. Maybe, if I didn’t give up, I’d be ready to run the Bluenose next year.
I kept running. All summer I’d smile at Haligonians in Bluenose race shirts running by me. In August of that year, I ran my first race – a 2 miler. Later that month, I ran my first 5K race – when I was six weeks pregnant.
My excuse the following May was legitimate. Gavin was only a couple weeks old when the Bluenose happened in 2012. I knew I could run the Bluenose 5K if the timing had been a little different. So I told myself I only needed to wait one more year. Next year, no excuses.
It took four years of this kind of thinking to actually start running. Five years before I finally ran in the Bluenose.
As I opened my race-kit last weekend, I pulled out the yellow tee shirt. It was the shirt I had been coveting for five years. Five years of slow pushes to run. I hadn’t run the Bluenose yet, but I certainly had earned the right to wear the shirt on my 10K Bluenose race day.
Filled with so many emotions at the starting line, I noticed that I wasn’t the only uncool rookie standing there. I was surrounded by thousands of runners in bright yellow race shirts. And even though my kids and husband weren’t able to join me at the start line or meet me at the finish line, I felt like I was part of something. The yellow shirts and the shared distance connected us. We weren’t racing each other. We were racing ourselves, together. We were a running community. A family. I fell in love with running all over again as I ran the race that got me running.
I might be unlucky. I might be uncool. But I will always wear my race shirt to the race.
Photo credit Marathon-Photos.com
Race Stats:
Race: Bluenose Marathon
Date: May 19, 2013
Distance: 10 km
Time: 1 hour, 12 minutes, 20 seconds
Personal Best: 1 hour, 10 minutes, 56 seconds
Pace: 7 minutes, 15 seconds per km
Place: 1885/2226 [595/662 in category]
*Not nice, I know. Let me clarify: I do not want to imply that all seasoned runners are douchebags, or that those who choose to not wear their race shirts are jerks. I was just kind of annoyed at the tone set in the rules I had read online when I was writing (see the link in the following paragraph).
