Comox is in the books. I mentioned in a post-race interview that it felt like an Escher run. You know the way the workers in his paintings start at the bottom of a staircase and climb, and if you follow the staircase around the quadrant, with your eyes, climbing the entire way, each step up leading to another step up until you’ve climbed across all four sides and reached the … bottom? That’s how the wind felt on Sunday. 14kph which isn’t strong but was enough, with the drizzle and the cool temperatures (4 degrees at race start), to stymie a record attempt. Wind that seemed to be against us on the way out, 5km in 15:50 and 10km in 32:02 (the second 5km has 70m of elevation gain), was against us on the way back. Geoff ran easily, and there were a couple of times he started pulling away from me on the hills between 5km and 10km before listening for my footsteps and slowing up to wait for me. 16km in 50:40. We were still within range of the record but I was getting pretty cold, cold enough that my face felt like it does after visiting the dentist, and my legs tightened up on the finishing stretch. Geoff got away from me with 5km remaining, and I worked hard to pull him in by 20km but it took most of my energy. My last 1km was one of my slowest, 3:12, though I knew well before then that I wouldn't be getting the Canadian master's record. Final time of 1:07:10, missing the mark by 37 seconds. I felt good about the race. Felt like I got everything out of my body and that perhaps, on a dry and calm day, I could have hit the 1:06:33. Since the race I've eaten at Devour, Brasserie L'École, Relish, Zambri's, Fol Epi. Watched the ma drink two car bombs at the Irish Times, while Blackangus' third set exploded over us. Spoils.
