I guess you're sick of hearing how good the Trapline event was. How well-organized, how much fun, blah, blah. Well, personally I didn't think it was that good. I didn't win. Didn't even place in my age group. What a rip-off. Of course, I'm just kidding. Let me add my congratulations on a great event. Just this morning on our 6 am run I was telling stories of the marathon and how good it was. I'm trying to convince some of my Gander running buddies to come up next year.

My initial goal for the race was just to finish. Which I did. Then I thought, maybe top 10, which I didn't. After I saw that there were 17 marathoners, I thought top 15, and I made it. I carefully scanned the competition on the bus ride to Northwest River. The more I scanned, the less hope I had of winning. Oh well. Maybe next year.

I started off at a conservative (read: slow) pace. Feeling good, I passed the first 10K in about 56 minutes. Then I started thinking about something else. Portapotties. I'm not sure that's all one word but its easier to type that way. So, back to the portapotty. I thought I had timed my "morning routine" well but apparently I had some routine left. Not to be too graphic but I needed to do number 2. So, I tried to recall what the race info pack said about portapotties. I knew there was one at half-way. So, I concentrated on running and talked to the other runners. I got to half way in about 2 hours, just as the half-marathon was about to start. The funny thing was, when I was in the 'facility' I heard the whoops and cheers of the half-marathoners as they bolted down the hill from the start line and went flying past me. I hurried to finish and rejoin the race. As I got back on the road one of the marathoners passed me. I gave her a high five and wished her luck. Unbeknownst to me, but knownst to me later, was the fact that more marathoners had passed me during my pit-stop. Racing strategy-wise, I had made a grave mistake.

I continued on, reaching 30K in 2:58, still under 1-hour per 10K pace. Feeling OK. Then the reality of the marathon started to sink in. So I did what any finely-tuned athlete does; I started to walk, and walk, and walk. By now I was in the midst of the half-marathoners and 10Kers. It was good to have people to suffer with. Secretly, I was proud that I had a red ribbon on my bib number indicating that I was doing the full marathon. It gave me a good excuse for why I was moving so slowly.

With 1.5K to go, I was ready for my final sprint. The word sprint is a relative term. I still took two walk breaks in the final stretch. A friend of mine met me towards the finish to encourage me. I saw the clock at 4:28:33. I knew then that I would reach my ultimate goal, breaking 4:30. I was too cold to eat much at the finish but later that afternoon I bought two subs from Northmart and ate both of them while watching golf on tv. I think the processed meat and cheese really helped me recover. Again, this recovery method is only to be used by elite athletes like myself. I wouldn't
recommend it for everyone.

That's it! My official post-race report. I learned a few lessons, connected with old friends, made some new ones, and basically had a blast. Where else can you shake hands with the mayor when you cross the finish line?

Derrick Pittman

I remember the first day I really started running. I mean, started running for no other purpose than to run. It was April 23, 1983. I was seventeen years old, working at a local sports store in Labrador City. This job did not last long when my boss realized that being mechanically challenged I was perhaps not the best person to be assembling bicycles. Anyway, I remember buying a pair of Nike running shoes (they used to be called sneakers) and leaving from my house to run to the ski lodge and back, approximately 5 miles (oops, I mean 8 kms). The road was muddy, wet and snow-covered in places but the run itself did not feel that difficult. I was on cloud nine. I remember not being able to sleep that night with some new-found excitement. It was like I had discovered a gold deposit or something. The next day, I got up and decided to run to the neighboring town of Wabush and back. Again, I felt great. I was hooked.

Anyway, being 17 and foolish (as opposed to being 43 and foolish like I am now), I decided to run a marathon in the fall of 1983. I asked for advice from my gym teacher. His advice was both scary and a little off the mark. "I would run 20 miles a day, if I was you." Now, I respected this guy. He was a great teacher. But an expert on distance running he was not. But being naive, and no expert myself, I decided to give it a try. Monday, 20 miles, Tuesday, 20 miles, Wed . . . OK you get the idea! Thursday came and I was starting to get a little tired. But I had to stick to my schedule. To make the full 20 that day I had to squeeze in a 3 miler in the evening. That was my third run of the day! My mileage for the week, for those of you not keeping track, was 80 miles. Unfortuneately, my body was starting to feel the effects. I developed a huge blister on the heel of my left foot and was sidelined for the next week. When I began training again I toned it down a bit, needless to say. Anyway, I ran the Montreal Marathon on September 25th, 1983, a day which will live in infamy. My time? 3 hours, 40 minutes, 19 seconds. Just missed first place by 1 hour and 30 minutes. Not bad.

Well, I kept running, and running and running. High school cross-country, a return to Montreal in 1984, only to be done in a by an ankle injury suffered the week before the marathon. The years passed. I went to university. It was there that I discovered a local donut shop, much to the chagrin of my waistline. I put on the freshman 10 pounds. Multiplied by 3. I ran sporadically through those years of higher learning, competing in the Tely 10 numerous times. In 1994 I got a teaching job in Davis Inlet. I ran off and on for the next five years, using the local airstrip as a training route. Which wasn't too bad until a plane was trying to land. Then things could get a little dicey. I met my future wife there in 1997 and we married on November 27th, 1999 in Goose Bay, where we were now living. Mental note: buy something special for our tenth anniversary. I hope I have the date right. While teaching at Peenamin McKenzie school I got it into my head that I would like to run from there to the Labrador Training Centre one day. With the help of some other teachers and students, we organized a Kilometres for Kids event to raise money for the Janeway Hospital. We did the run three times and were very successful in raising funds.

In 2000, the year my first son was born, I entered the Quebec City Marathon. By the way, I highly recommend this event. It is well-organized, old Quebec is beautiful and the food is fantastic. The highlight of that run was carrying my seven-week-old son, Alexander across the finish line. It is one of my favorite pictures. I ran the Nova Scotia marathon in 2002. It was a little more difficult to carry my offspring this time in my moment of glory because by that time we had another son, Spencer, born in December of 2001. I'm not sure if he has ever forgiven me for dropping him at the finish line. I returned to that marathon in 2003 to set my all-time PR of 3:29:45.

For those of you still reading, I am almost done. To say I am looking forward to the Trapline Marathon would be a huge understatement. Sure I am not looking forward to the sore knees, the shortness of breath and the chafing in unmentionable places but Goose Bay has afforded me some of the best memories of my life. I treasure the friendships that I made there and I am excited about seeing some familiar faces. As I write this I can picture the fall colors of shimmering birch trees framed against an almost-impossible blue sky.

My only regret is that I will not have my family there with me. So, if anyone has a couple of spare kids that I could carry across the finish line, please let me know!