Oh, what a trip we had. Every year my son Mike and I try to plan a marathon in a new and different place. We have previously traveled to San Francisco, Eugene Oregon, Toronto, and other locations. This year we drew up a list of a dozen possible races in late September through October. After some discussion Mike pointed to Quebec City and said, “let’s go there!!”. To be Mikes 19th Marathon and my 53rd. We have run all but two of Mike’s races together. Getting there was another story. Two or three flights from Houston or Dallas and trying to finagle cheap tickets and hotels; we scheduled it out. http://www.cnn.com/travel/article/quebec-city-canada/index.html
We departed on the Thursday before the race by separate flight schedules. I arrived first by mid-afternoon after a morning run in Houston at about 78 degrees. On the ground at 2:00 PM it was a whole different world. Arriving at the hotel it was 39 degrees with 30 mile-per-hour winds and some driving rain. Ha! I could hardly get myself across the street to buy coffee and warm myself up.
We were settled in overnight and on Friday morning we went out for a shake-down run. Up onto the Plains of Abraham and then down into the old walled city. We stopped to look at historic sites and dodge tourist busses and stare at dozens of restaurants menus. We settled on breakfast at a place called The Hobbit and navigated our orders through the French speaking owner.
The weekend was rich with menu stops and patisseries (above) and pizza / pasta, and omelets and crepes of a variety we had never witnessed. Friday and Saturday afternoons, we toured the walled old city. It has been transformed over the years certainly into a tourist destination, but rich with historical buildings, narrow cobblestone alleys, museums, art and beautiful churches. The first church we visited was the 2nd building ever constructed after city founding by the French explorer Samuel de Champlain in 1608. It had been destroyed once by fire and re-built on the same site. The 2nd church pictured; Cathedral De Notre Dame was built on a grand style; we visited a mass being celebrated on Saturday evening and were blessed to be there.
On Saturday we climbed down a steep set of steps and a nearly vertical street to the riverfront. We knew that the racecourse ran down through the city to here and back out. I told Mike that the course had one large steep hill but not too bad, only 80 feet on the elevation map. As we stared back up that street, I looked at Mike and corrected myself “umm, maybe that was 80 meters??!!!” Uh oh.
Race day dawned in our usual pre-race panic, some food and dressing and out to the start line, two blocks up the street from our hotel. Different than a race in the US., very low key and no one in our front corral until 10 minutes before the race start. Of course, our front corral was only five feet wide, we could line up 20 across and four people deep in that small space. The weather was actually good, high 30’s and the winds were manageable. And off we went grinning straight down and through the city and down some more to the Saint Charles River.
At three miles I sent Mike off ahead and settled myself into a fine tour up along the river and then back down. What a beautiful scene, the trees in full color and constant encouragement in French from runners and spectators. Not sure what they were shouting but it sure felt welcoming. The hospitality from the community was wonderful during our stay, save the front desk attendants who tried to kick us out of our room at noon on Sunday. Mike saved the day by finishing at 11:58 AM (3:58 run time) and securing the room for a quick shower and packing before departure.
I accept slower race times at the point in my marathon career. I did commit this summer to a better conditioning and eating healthy. Though in the Houston never-ending heat my longest run was just one 16 miler, and I wasn’t in marathon race shape. So, it was a happy surprise that I ran well through more than half of the race to the bottom of that now large hill. Through the narrow cobblestone streets of the old city, like a dream, this where we ran:
Then it was time to ascend the hill. Up and up, it climbed and eventually out of the walled city and back to the Plains of Abraham and through local neighborhoods; where I came across a house to buy and consider how to come back to live a 2nd life here, a great new adventure ahead. I finished in 4:42:18 after a slowed second half and no worries.
Someone asked if we were happy with our times, and we laughed and said that no runner is ever happy with their time. But I was happy. Two Canadian retirees saw me in the elevator back after my race and asked how did I do? I told them that I finished and lived through it, and indeed we both lived well this weekend. Life is 90% waiting and 10% living; we lived so bright on Sunday. Off to the airport. And then of course no trip to Quebec is complete without a bowl of Poutine and I admired watching Mike eat this in about five minutes from start to finish, right after the medal ceremony.
And soon enough we will run again, and embrace our blessed time on this earth.
La vie n’est pas grande?