On the longest day of the year, Toronto runners meet up on Leslie Spit for a relay race.

A very, very, very fast relay race.

Last year, when I agreed to do it, I had no idea what I was getting into. “Those running the 10k need to be fast,” I was told. But fast is relative. In my run crew, I am not fast, but not slow. So I said I’d do it.

Then a teammate looked up last year’s times.

Oh shit.

When we showed up, it was a who’s who of the fastest runners in the city. There was an Olympian. But we did our best, didn’t come last and team #notlast was born.

I said yes this year, hoping for an easier assignment. Then they changed the format.

Teams of 6 running mile repeats, 4 times over. So I’d  have to run like hell. Repeat. Run like hell. Repeat.

I was nervous. I had just raced the Waterfront 10k. I did my second-ever post-injury speedwork on Tuesday. I didn’t tell my coach about this. I didn’t know how my body would react.

But I got out there and ran like hell.  I felt OK. I was tired and got lapped by almost everyone. But I didn’t come last. My body held up. It was hard, I was tired. I got slower with every repeat. But I did it.

I need to work on getting out of my head. Laying it on the line, and seeing what happens.

What’s the worst that could happen? I slow down? I come last? I DNF? It’s happened before. It’s not the end of the world.

This is supposed to be fun. I’m the one making it work.

And, despite how intimidating and hard Ekiden was, I had fun. So let’s keep having fun.

I had no idea what to expect heading into this race. My coach told me to run it hard so we had a base for training paces. But after doing no speedwork in like 8 months and only running regularly the past few, what is hard? What was I capable of? I mentioned sub 55:00 on the phone to my coach and she was coy, in a way that made me think I could definitely go faster. But was sub 50 possible? It didn’t seem so.

I decided to go for the impossible. The guy who ran my last marathon training clinic once said— after I said there was no way I could run a 1:45 half-marathon — “What’s the worst that could happen? You DON’T run 1:45? Who cares?” I try to remember that every time I set a scary goal. Running, as important as it is to me, is meaningless. I am the only person who is going to care what those numbers are.

A couple other runners also wanted to go sub 50, so my plan was to stick with them until I blew up. I was nervous, but also in the back of my mind started to believe sub 50 was doable.

We all went out too fast.

Race excitement, a downhill start, a crowd surge — it pushed us all forward.

I immediately fell behind my friends, but had them within sight.

4:51.

No need to catch up.

4:51.

Whoa, consistent splits?

I CAN do this.

4:56.

Still on pace for sub 50.

458.

Slowing down is bad.

Then it got hot. And I got hungry.

5:07.

Fine.

I need water. I walk through the water station.

5:25.

Damn it, pick it up.

5:02.

Ugh, not enough.

I’m still hungry.

Oh more water, thank god.

5:33.

Two km left, get up this hill.

5:17.

If you run like hell… maybe? Probably not, but 50:XX would be great.

So I ran like hell.

4:51.

51:06.

I could have pushed harder. I could have been smarter. I could have stayed more positive. But 51:06 after almost 8 months of being on the injury/comeback train is a good place to start.