Chapter 1: New Year’s Day

2026 started with a lot of optimism. I’m six weeks into a twelve-week half marathon training plan, with race day set for Valentine’s Day. The plan itself is pretty straightforward—about four runs a week, with one long run that gets a little longer each weekend, adding ten minutes at a time.

I’ve really enjoyed that gradual build. Ten minutes felt like just the right amount of challenge—enough to push me without breaking me. By the end of the plan, my long runs will be close to two and a half hours, which should give me the endurance I need for the half marathon.

I decided to race a half marathon as preparation for the T100 race I signed up for in August. That race ends with an 18K run, after a 2K swim and an 80K bike ride. That’s my A race for the year.

My B race will be the Vancouver Triathlon in September. It’ll be my second time racing the standard distance on this course, and my goal is simple: do it better than last time.

Running has been my main focus through the winter, but my big Christmas purchase was a set of aerobars for my road bike. As soon as the half marathon is over, my training will shift toward cycling. I want to spend more time in the aero position—especially since I also signed up for a two-day cycling fundraiser that’ll require riding 100 km on day one and 30 km on day two. 

It’s going to be a long year. There’s a lot of work ahead and a lot of progress to make. And it all starts with me running this half marathon.

Chapter 2: Out and Back

One thing I really like about long runs is that they’re long enough to actually take me somewhere. If you’ve got close to two hours, you can get well beyond your neighbourhood. You can explore a route you’ve never tried before and still leave yourself enough time to make it home.

When I’m planning these runs, I always wonder what I prefer: one big loop, an out-and-back, or just heading out in a random direction until time runs out. During this training block, I’ve really grown to like out-and-backs. There’s something about covering the same route twice that I appreciate. On the way out, I’m fresh. On the way back, I’m drained. Same place—completely different experience.

I also like out-and-backs because they’re predictable. If I need to run for two hours, I can go out for one and come back for one. Simple. With loops, it’s harder to anticipate detours, barriers, or wrong turns in the second half. Out-and-back just makes the math easy.

Chapter 3: A Little Getaway

I’ve listened to a lot of audiobooks during this training block—six in total. One about ultrarunning, one about cycling across America, a few self-help and productivity books, and a biography about mountain climbing and Alex Honnold. 

Long runs have been a great way to catch up on my “reading.” I haven’t had much time to sit down with a physical book lately, and when I do, it feels scattered. Running with an audiobook lets me move and be entertained at the same time. I want to say I’m learning—but honestly, I’m not sure how much I’m retaining. 

These long runs feel like a small getaway. A chance to see the water. A chance to be outside. Especially on beautiful winter days, I really look forward to them. Without running, I’d probably just be at home. I’m grateful I get out.

Training has given me structure through these gloomy months. It’s helped time pass. It’s given me something I can control. I go for my run, I check the box, I log the effort. A small internal scorecard. It’s been huge for my mental health—I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without it.

On days like today, I’m just glad to be outside. Away from the screens. A small escape from everything. Running doesn’t make stress disappear, but for a little while, it gives me space from it. It’s not easy—running is hard and tiring—but with all the pent-up energy I’ve been carrying, those weekend runs have been the best way to let it out.

Chapter 4: New Shiny Things

It was my birthday this past week. I turned 37. I’ve been doing some reflecting lately—and a lot of that thinking happens while I’m out running.

I got a couple of great gifts. My wife bought me Shokz headphones, and my in-laws got me a new pair of gloves. Both have made these winter runs so much better. And I’ve been lucky—the weather’s been beautiful the past couple weekends. 

On a day like today, I had to check out the seawall. Since my half marathon is happening here, I figured I’d run toward Stanley Park. It’s honestly one of the nicest places, even if it gets busy. I guess that’s the tradeoff with nice places.

One thing this training block has taught me is that…I don’t know how much I actually love running on its own. Three to four runs a week is a lot for me. When I’m training for a triathlon, it’s usually two runs a week, which is a lot more manageable. I still look forward to it—but I’ve been counting down the days to better weather and more time on the bike.

At this point, I’m getting impatient. I’m ready to race my half marathon and shift my focus to cycling. I’ve noticed this pattern in myself: when I do one thing for too long, I start thinking about the next thing. There’s always something new and shiny. Or rather, another flavor I wasn’t sick of yet. 

That’s partly why the new headphones and gloves were a timely gift. They made the long runs feel fresh again.

I did sneak in a bit of cycling this week, riding out to cheer Sharon on at the finish line of her 10K. We didn’t stay long—she had more miles to run as she builds toward her marathon in May. She’s on her own journey right now.

So we grabbed a little footage of the ride, and then headed home.

Chapter 5: Under the Weather

This weekend I woke up to my longest run of the training plan—and I didn’t feel good at all. Sore throat and a full-body burnout feeling. I definitely thought about taking the day off.

But I needed this run. I’d been looking forward to it. This was the one that was supposed to give me confidence heading into the race. If I skipped it, it would’ve felt like I cheated the plan—like I avoided the hardest workout and never put the punctuation mark on the block. I could skip any other run. But not this one.

So I sucked it up and headed out.

The mistake was starting with a climb. I had this route planned—up toward the Arbutus Greenway, then looping down to the seawall. Once I stepped outside, I couldn’t think of an alternative. I had to be out there for hours anyway, so I just got going.

My heart rate was high the entire time. Averaging 160—which is way too high for what was supposed to be an easy run. That’s when I knew I’d pushed it. I wasn’t 100%. It started raining. And it was too late to turn back, so I kept moving.

Yet, it was still strangely rewarding. Running in the rain. Feeling a little wild and free. Fewer people out than on a sunny day, which I liked. 

But it was one of the hardest runs I’ve ever done.

And I knew I was going to pay for it.

Chapter 6: An Early Taper

So it’s been one week since my last long run, and now I’m one week out from the half marathon.

I ended up getting sick this week.

I already didn’t feel great the morning of my last long run, but I went out anyway and pushed through a tough two-hour-twenty-five-minute run in the rain. When I got home, I knew something wasn’t right. I took a nap, and when I woke up, I checked my heart rate. It had been over 90 beats per minute the entire time. Normally when I nap, it drops to around 50. So that’s when I knew something was off.

My heart rate stayed elevated for most of the week, and I eventually developed a cough. It’s been a tough few days.

The good news is my heart rate has finally come back down. Yesterday I went out for a 30-minute run. My heart actually felt fine, but my legs felt a bit weak. Not terrible — just not strong. I guess it could’ve been worse. I’d rather get sick last week and recover than start feeling this way right before race day.

Right now, I think I’m going to be okay.

Today I’ll do about 45 minutes on the bike, and tomorrow, if the weather’s nice, I’ll ride outside. After that, it’s just the final taper and then race day next Saturday.

So yeah. We’ll see.

Chapter 7: The Half Marathon

Race morning, there was still that slight tingle in my throat, and my calves were a little sore. I didn’t feel 100%, but I felt ready. I had spent twelve weeks preparing for this, and more than anything, I knew I had prepared for the pain. I wasn’t naïve about what was coming. I knew at some point it was going to hurt.

What I didn’t have was a super detailed plan, because I honestly didn’t know how my body was going to feel once things got going. So my approach was simple: start controlled, settle into a moderate pace, and then reassess halfway. If I felt good, I’d build. If I didn’t, I’d manage it. Stay flexible. Adjust as I go.

My goal was anything under 1:50, with 1:45 being the perfect scenario. That was the dream outcome, but not the expectation. Standing at the start line, I’d say it felt 50/50. I wasn’t overly confident, but I did feel prepared, and that counted for something.

The first five kilometers went by slowly. I was holding my pace, but it felt a bit clunky, like I was still figuring out what the right effort actually was. I kept asking myself, what can I really sustain today? How much should I push?

It turned out to be a pretty ideal day for running. Around the 10K mark, we curved along the seawall straight into a headwind, and that’s when things started to feel real. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it demanded focus. One thing that unexpectedly helped was watching for the kilometer markers. I’d spot the sign in the distance and lock onto it. It gave me these small mental checkpoints, something to work toward instead of thinking about the entire distance left.

By the halfway point, I was feeling better than I expected. I glanced at my watch and tried to do some mental math — I’m not sure I actually calculated anything properly — but I convinced myself sub-1:50 was there. The real question became how far under could I go? Was 1:45 possible? I decided I had to at least try, so I gradually picked up the pace, about ten seconds faster per kilometer on the way back.

The final 5K is where it really started to hurt. My legs were heavy, my breathing was labored, and I could feel my energy dipping. I hung onto a small group for a few kilometers, letting them pull me along, but eventually I had to run my own race. With about 2 km left, I pushed and kind of disappeared into myself. There were tourists and pedestrians all around, completely unaware of the internal battle happening within me.

The course finished on a steep incline, which felt almost cruel at that point. I honestly thought that hill might break me, but somehow there was just enough left in the tank. Enough to crest it, cross the line, awkwardly accept a snow globe medal, and then collapse onto the grass.

My gun time was 1:48 on the dot and my chip time was 1:47 — comfortably under 1:50 and right in the middle of that “perfect day” window. It felt fair. It reflected the work I put in and the fact that the last couple of weeks hadn’t gone perfectly. The result made sense, and that gave me a lot of comfort.

I’m proud I followed through. I’m relieved it’s done. And I’m genuinely ready to shift my focus to cycling and ease off the running for a bit.

That said… I know myself. I might miss it sooner than I expect.

But for now, I’m putting these running shoes to the side.

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