Have you been to Montreal? If not, please go. It’s a very cool city.
I’ve recently been a little sick of running the New York City Marathon. I mean, it’s the best marathon, it’s just repetitive at this point. Of course, I signed up for it again this year because apparently I’d still rather run it than sit on the sidelines and get FOMO watching all my friends pass by.
But I wanted something different. So I signed up for the Montreal Marathon and made it my goal race. Emily and I love Montreal, and I thought it would be a great city to visit again and race in.
TRAINING WHEELS
As a running and triathlon coach, I make my own training plans. For Montreal, I made this one pretty aggressive.
The centerpiece was a 21 mile long run that crosses a ridiculous number of New York City bridges. I call it Baker’s Bridge Brigade.
It will wreck you… and yet, it’s a really fun route.
I ran the Brooklyn Half in 1:22 and the Tallinn Half in 1:26 so I was feeling fit and running well. Everything seemed to be pointing in the right direction for a solid race in Montreal.
But you can have the best training season of your life and the running gods can still deliver a day you cannot control. Hot. Cold. Rainy. Sunny. Windy. Whatever.
So when the gods play in your favor, you play back.
DELIVER US
I arrived a day before Emily and set about collecting my race items, mainly my bib since the race shirt sucked and I wasn’t going to pay for one.
It was all very easy, although the expo wasn’t quite what you’d expect if you’re used to something like the NYC Marathon Expo. I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling slightly ridiculous walking around Montreal carrying a giant clear plastic bag containing exactly one piece of paper.
My bib.
For dinner, I went to a super cool sushi speakeasy based on the recommendation of my friend Jamie. It was fantastic, and I made friends with the young couple dining next to me, who of course happened to be from New York City too.
COOL AND REFRESHING
I went for my two mile shakeout run the next morning and it was 43 degrees outside.
Wow.
There’s a historic clock tower on the water that I figured I’d run to. It was very pretty and had some historical significance related to World War I, so obviously I was into it.
Emily arrived shortly after, and once she was settled we set out on a coffee and breakfast adventure, walking due west. We wandered around a few Montreal neighborhoods we like, had lunch and eventually realized we had walked 20,000 steps.
Probably shouldn’t be on your feet that much the day before a marathon. So I’ve heard.
We retreated to the hotel until dinner and I prepared my ‘Bib Person.’
Dinner was at Miracolo, another Jamie recommendation, which was also superb. It had a cool French bistro vibe and yet could have easily been in SoHo. I had steak, potatoes and vegetables for my pre race meal.
In bed and asleep by 9:30.
TIME TO MAKE THE DOUGHNUTS
I was up by 6:00 and felt very good. Maybe even a little too excited to run a marathon.
I was also nervous because when the training cycle goes well, you’re fit and the weather and conditions line up, you need to perform. On a hot, shitty day you can ease up and you can even make excuses.
Today was going to be perfect.
ON HOTEL COFFEE
Hotel coffee in general can suck.
Occasionally, as Emily and I call it, Lobby Coffee can be decent. But I was told my race morning options were room coffee from a Keurig, possibly the worst invention ever, or wait until 7:00, which was too late. Unlike in larger marathons, our Marriott wasn’t doing anything special for the runners.
This was tough.
But the name of the game until lunch was tough. Put yourself in uncomfortable situations and push through them. Reward yourself with french fries and beer after.
Emily, the best support squad ever, had snagged me some oatmeal. I heated it up, added blueberries, got dressed and headed out to the Metro.
INTO THE UNKNOWN
I stepped out of the hotel and walked one block to the Metro.
Very strategic planning.
There were already other runners outside, which got me jazzed up. I had on my race outfit and a throwaway hoodie. It must have been about 45 degrees out which felt cold after a warm night’s sleep, but this was optimal.
The Berri UQAM station was mobbed with runners, but in a good way. We were one stop from the start and everyone was moving toward the train like penguins. French and English were being spoken everywhere with smiles and quiet bursts of excitement.
I also decided this was as good a time as any to eat my oatmeal.
When we came up the stairs on the other side, everyone started oohing and aahing. The morning sky was a vivid magenta.I looked at the sunrise, smiled and said out loud, “The gods are with us today.”
After a quick bathroom break in the woods, I made my way to Corral A and waited patiently for 20 minutes.
AND SO IT BEGINS
I stripped off my throwaway hoodie a few minutes before the elites went off. They started two minutes ahead of us. In retrospect, considering I would eventually catch some of them, maybe give them a slightly bigger head start next time?
Or does it even matter?
The gun went off and we surged.
My goal was to squeak in just under three hours.
I crossed the start mat only two seconds after the gun and tried to stay calm as we made our way over the bridge toward St. Helen’s Island.
I settled into a small pack of guys who looked like college kids. A lot of them had ironic running mustaches.
I felt decent, although I had a few random pains and cramps popping up here and there. I’ve done this enough times to know my running self pretty well. Mile six or seven is usually when everything finally warms up and clicks into place, so I tried not to worry.
Miles one through three were all around 6:30.
At one point I actually said out loud, “Too fast.”
TAKE IT TO THE BRIDGE
We made our way toward the island of Montreal via the Concord Bridge, which was pretty cool.
I was still leapfrogging with a bunch of young speedsters and still feeling good. The pace was obviously fast for someone supposedly trying to sneak under three hours, but the effort felt low.
So I went with it.
After winding through some pretty desolate industrial areas, we eventually made our way into the Old City. The crowds started showing up and the vibes were great.
We turned onto Rue Notre Dame, one of Montreal’s more famous streets. I had been on the lookout for the dreaded cobblestones, but I barely noticed them.
Miles four through six were still averaging somewhere around 6:30.
THE FLYBY
Around Mile 7 we passed near our hotel and I saw Emily cheering, all smiles.
I smiled back, waved and flashed the Manhattan Track Club gang sign.
We continued on in small packs through another beautiful part of Montreal. Autumn was in full swing here and the trees were gold, the air was cool and I was having fun.
Then, just past Mile 9, I saw a sign directing half marathoners one way and full marathoners another.
Wait, what?
Nearly all the young speedsters I had been following turned off.
They were running the half and suddenly, I was alone. Duped!
THE QUIET CAR
We turned onto Boulevard Saint Laurent, which I knew would be a long straightaway. I think it’s around 5 miles out to the turn around point.
My pace was still hovering in the 6:30 to 6:40 range. Anyone looking at my goal time would have said I was running too fast.
But fuck ’em lol.
My legs were functioning perfectly. My turnover was around 190 steps per minute. My heart rate was around 160. And most importantly spirits were high. As my running friends will tell you, it’s important not to get overzealous in the first half, or really until like mile 20 of a marathon if you’re running well, because things can fall apart fast.
We were now on the far west side of Montreal. Part of why I wanted to run the Montreal Marathon was exactly this. Running takes you through parts of a city you would never otherwise see.
Would you go sightseeing in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn? Probably not. But on Marathon Sunday, you get to run through it. Same thing here.
GONE FISHING
I always notice runners in the distance.
Do I know them? Are we friends? Can I catch them? Can I reel them in?
That became the game as I worked my way toward the turnaround. And somehow, I was still clicking off miles around 6:30 all the way through Mile 16.
SLINGSHOT
We reached the turnaround near the Rivière des Prairies, and I remember thinking what a nice neighborhood it was. The trees were gorgeous and it was very much a suburb.
So cute.
I also remember wondering how the hell I was still moving this fast. I took my third gel around here and saved my fourth and final gel for later. Then we hooked around back onto the straightaway, headed home.
And then I noticed something. We were going uphill.
Kill me now.
That’s why it felt so easy going toward the park. We had been going downhill. My pace from miles 17 through 22 slowed closer to 6:40, but my legs were still trucking and turning over, but the feeling of fatigue was seeping in now.
For part of this stretch I ended up running alongside elite runner Rachelle Dion. I was jealous of all the cheering she was getting. Really, aside from Emily I knew no one else out here on the course.
FINAL PUSH
Things started to hurt. That’s the name of the game in marathon running.
I realized that much of this entire back half felt like one long false flat. It was taking everything I had just to keep moving.
I have entered the Pain Cave.
Then we took a left and linked back up with the half marathon runners for the final four or five miles.
I knew I was slowing down but as long as I kept moving forward, sub three was still intact. So I pushed. As we rounded the park and started making our way toward the finish, miles 24 to 25 I wanted to walk so very badly.
Things felt like slow motion.
INTO THE LIGHT
We came up and across the top of the park, which seemed to last approximately forever.
I kept looking at my watch. I knew I had a buffer, but it would be close.
When we finally entered the park, my legs felt like they were barely moving, even though on paper I was somehow still running around a seven minute pace.
Then I saw the finish.
As I was crossing the announcer shouted, “Chris Baker from New York City!” I threw my hand up in a victory salute.
2:56:15
This was my third fastest marathon out of 26.
I was so pumped. It was a dream and I wasn’t sure how I pulled it off.
And then it took me a full five minutes to get my shit together after I stopped. I stumbled around a bit.
I love using the analogy that when you come to a stop after running a marathon it’s kind of like when space ships come out of light speed in Star Wars.
RETURN TO BASE
Eventually, I found Emily outside the park we finished in.
I had a huge fucking smile on my face.
We got on the Metro and headed back to the hotel. I was excited to shower and head to my celebratory lunch.
And just to get really personal for a minute, running nearly four minutes under three hours was a wild accomplishment that I genuinely did not know was still physically possible for me. The last time I went that far under 3 hours was 10 years ago. I was a younger man… my whole life ahead of me…
It also made me remember that it is so fucking hard to run one of these things.
Training for months is hard. Getting to the start healthy is hard. Running 26.2 miles as fast as you possibly can without stopping is hard.
But that feeling of accomplishment one can carry around after a great race, it’s all worth it.
BRING ME ALL OF YOUR FRENCH FRIES
After the hotel we found a local place in the Old City with burgers, french fries and beer.
My only requirements.
Unlike a bigger marathon like Chicago, which was happening the same day and where seemingly half my friends were running, there weren’t many medal wearing runners out celebrating over dinner in Montreal. It made the whole thing feel a little more intimate. Other diners were also probably like “Look at this clown, wearing a medal to lunch.”
One runner did however come in and give me a fist bump. So that was cool.
That night, Emily took me to my favorite restaurant in Montreal, Damas. It’s a Syrian spot that rivals any NYC dining experience.
It was the perfect end to a flawless day.
IN CONCLUSION
Do not ever let anyone tell you something isn’t possible.
If you believe in it, and you put in the work, then yes it is possible.
Running marathons certainly isn’t any easier then when I started and had a younger body. You just start to accumulate experience and learn how to problem solve fast during a race.
This is why we run them. They can break you and they should be feared and respected, the perfect adversary.
But they can be beaten. And on that day, when you’ve pushed yourself to the very brink and have come out on the other side victorious, there is no greater feeling of accomplishment.
Big ups: Thanks to my team Manhattan Track Club for kicking my ass every Wednesday and holding me accountable. To my distance training partners Rowland and D for the positive vibes during the long runs. And of course, my wife Emily who is the greatest supporter and cheer squad leader ever.
