Coming off a strong 2025 running season—with personal bests at every distance and my first ultra—I set even more ambitious goals for 2026. I want to improve all my PBs, earn another coveted RunK2J award, and complete my first 100-miler. I never really stopped training after last season; I even ran a 50K on December 30th before beginning my build for the St. Lawrence Marathon.
I kicked off the year by reaching out to Mike and Yvonne to see if I could shadow them during my training. I used Mike’s training plan as a baseline for my own (which, unfortunately, included a lot of Blair Witch runs). Huge shoutout to both of them—they had a massive influence on how I pushed myself this cycle. From training runs to nutrition and strength coaching, they set me up for success. The entire RunK2J crew played an important role in helping me push beyond anything I’d done before, setting the stage for an amazing first race of 2026.
Race weekend plans were set: a Friday night stay at the luxurious Century Motel in Cornwall (a favourite spot of the one and only Terry SanCartier). Kanako organized a pre-race dinner at East Side Mario’s so we could properly carb-load. Earlier in the week, Chris and Rudi decided to join, so we turned it into a road trip—perfect for planning Rudi’s upcoming “Divide 200” race and dreaming up other wild running adventures.
After dinner, we made a quick stop at Dollarama so I could grab socks to use as arm warmers (Rudi borrowed a knife and cut out the toes), followed by a grocery run where Terry picked up a banana for 21 cents—earning three loyalty points on his “big purchase.” We wrapped up the night back at the motel, relaxing, chatting, and watching playoff hockey. It was a great evening.
After a restless sleep, race day arrived. We were up at 4:30 a.m. and at Tim Hortons by 4:40 for the obligatory coffee and bagel—marathon prep routines are sacred. After checking out, we headed to the finish line to catch the bus to the start, managing to get on the first one, where a cheerful Kanako was already waiting.
Once we arrived, I distributed a couple of race kits to my neighbour and Wilson. Since there was no race-day pickup, I had grabbed their kits the night before. Getting there early paid off—last year, long port-a-potty lines nearly made us miss the start. The only downside this year was the temperature: just 1°C, feeling like -2 with the wind.
Finally, it was time to race.
We lined up, the gun went off, and within about a minute I abandoned my race strategy (5:25/km for 14 km, then dropping to 5:15/km). Normally that kind of decision backfires—but not today. I found myself cruising at around 5:05/km for the first 10 km. It felt surprisingly comfortable, so I went with it. Eventually, I eased slightly and aimed to hold under 5:15/km for the rest of the race.
Around 15 km, we hit the parkway—the first real challenge. The wind picked up, and we faced a steady headwind for about 10 km along a much more exposed stretch. Despite that, I reached the halfway point with a split of 1:48:35—well ahead of my 1:55:23 from last year’s race.
Next came the rolling hills, starting just after Long Sault (~25 km) and continuing for about 5 km. Each uphill reminded me of the Blair Witch runs—by comparison, these felt manageable. That mental trick worked, and I powered through.
As the hills tapered off, I tried to calculate my projected finish time—but the math wasn’t exactly mathing. I estimated somewhere around 3:43–3:44, which I was still thrilled with. My focus then shifted to spotting the RunK2J cheer squad. I couldn’t remember exactly where they’d be, which at least kept my mind occupied for a few kilometres. Before I saw them, I heard Chris Bright—unsurprisingly. Seeing everyone out there cheering gave me a huge boost right when things were starting to hurt.
After the cheer station, I realized I had picked up the pace from the excitement and needed to settle back in. Then came the toughest stretch: an elevated section along the canal, fully exposed to the elements. By this point, wind gusts were hitting up to 42 km/h straight in our faces. Even though the effort stayed high, my pace dropped. I was relieved when the course finally descended back to the riverside and into some shelter.
The final 4–5 km were all about grit—holding pace and pushing through fatigue. Around 41 km, I realized I might finish close to 3:40, which gave me one last surge of energy. I held on and, as I crossed the final bridge into the finishing area, I caught my foot on a plank and went down hard. A few runners passed, checking if I was okay. Shaken and dealing with a cramping leg, I got back up and pushed through the final few hundred metres.
I sprinted to beat the clock before it hit 3:41—and crossed the line thrilled. I had just shaved 16 minutes and 10 seconds off my personal best.
Run K2J 