Rob Watson

A Wonderful Place

By InnerVoice

December 19^th, 2018

I like music more than running

I like music even more than I like running. I don’t play an instrument, I’ve never had the gear, and I’ve never had the ability. But I’ve always been really into the punk rock/hardcore scene. I can’t explain it. I’ve been going to punk rock shows since I was 13 years old. Growing up, none of my friends were athletes, so I was the odd one out, but we were more connected through the music side of things. There’s just something about going to a concert that brings out a certain side of me.

I’m an old man now, but when I go to a show, I won’t hesitate to get in the pit.

I remember in 2015, I was going to run the PanAm Games, and three weeks before the Games there was a punk rock festival in Montebello, Quebec. They had some of my favourite bands that I listened to growing up, so I was like “man, I gotta go to this festival.” So here I am at this 3-day festival, and every day I’d have to sneak out for a run. I think there are lots of runners who are musicians and lots of musicians who run, even though they’re not traditionally associated with each other. But there are similarities in that they’re both communities that come together almost instantly. For instance, there’s a band called Protest the Hero, they are an experimental metal band, and when they came to Vancouver I got to run with their guitarist, who was a passionate runner.

I love that my two true passions in life can co-exist and I don’t have to choose one or the other.

Vancouver

I grew up in London, Ontario, which is a great place to grow up, but then I went to Colorado State University. The thing I loved about Colorado was the mountains and just how vast and gigantic and enormous they were, and just being attached to nature like you are there. After graduating, I moved to Guelph, Ontario to train, but there were times where I just needed to get out so I’d jump in my car and drive back to Colorado. That was the one place where I felt a calm energy.

I remember the first time I ever came to Vancouver, which was for a race in 2010 or 2011, and getting off the flight thinking “oh my gosh, this place is beautiful.” While I was there, I sat down at the beach and had one of those life-defining moments, wondering to myself why I wasn’t living in Van. A year later, I was. It’s the beauty that draws you in. I love the ocean, but mostly I love running on the trails. The huge trees, all the greenery - I find it very calming like it was for me in Colorado. I love that you can be downtown and within 10 minutes you’re running in Stanley Park. Just the other day I was out on the trails, and someone said we’re lucky to live here, and I said “No, we’re not lucky, we’re smart. Plus, this is where I met my wife.”

It’s a wonderful place.

Now, being part of the running community here is something that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I love Mile2Marathon because we go down to the track on Wednesday nights and there are 60 people there, with 60 different stories, and each and every one of them are there for their own reason. But when we’re on the track, everyone is working together. It doesn’t matter how old you are, it doesn’t matter what you do for a living when you get on that start line, nothing else matters.

I'm not the old rob

For a good portion of my life I’ve lived and breathed the high-performance part of running and was obsessed with being the best I could possibly be, so when I took a step back and retired from that, I didn’t know what form running was going to take for me.

I knew I’d keep running, but in what regard?

It’s been an interesting transition over the last couple of years as I’ve been able to reassess goals and reframe my running and what I’m looking to get out of the sport. Nowadays, I’m not out there trying to make the Olympics, but I’m still trying to get the best out of myself. To this day, when I go on a hard run, I don’t listen to music. I am locked in and want to be completely aware of what’s going on, like I was when I was training at a high level. I like being out there and in my own box and not having to think about work, or the nonsense going on in the world.

I think the big part for me now is being realistic and being humble with my goals. When I’m out doing a hard run, I need to realise I’m not the Rob of 2013, I’m me of now. Now that I'm older I think I’m more aware of my body - it’s not the numbers on my watch that tell me how I’m doing, it’s how my legs feel and how my head feels.

Sometimes the numbers aren’t there, but if I’ve worked hard and I’ve focused hard, I’m okay with that.

The Bonus Marathon

Heading into last year, I was running but didn’t really have any set plans. As the winter went on, I was running every day, and I realised I was starting to get in pretty good shape. I talked to Dylan, and he put together a pretty damn good training plan for me, so I was happy with that. As we got closer to the BMO Vancouver Marathon, looking at the field, looking at the previous times, I thought I was a good shot at winning it. I’d actually never won a marathon, and in my mind, I’d come to terms with the fact that my best race was behind me.

This was a bonus marathon for me, so my mindset going in was that I’ve got nothing to lose.

I remember stepping out the door at 5:30am and it was already quite warm, so I had the thought that it was going to be a bit of a slog. You can’t control the weather, though, so no point worrying about it. The half marathon goes off before the marathon, so I got to catch up with some of the athletes that I coach, which allowed me to not stress too much while I was waiting for the start. Once the gun went off for the marathon, I wanted to spend the first few kilometres seeing how my body felt and trying to settle in at around 3:20 or 3:18 per kilometre. The goal was to run a 2-hour 20-minute marathon, which is where my training had been aimed.

I was just humming along and by about 15km the lead group was down to me and a runner from Kenya.

It became a head-to-head race.

My advantage was that I knew the course like the back of my hand, I’d run it time and time again. I knew where the climbs were, and I knew where the downhills were, and I knew that just before the halfway mark there’s a downhill section that’s about a mile down. At that point of a marathon, on a hot day where you’re already dehydrated, a hard mile downhill can shred your legs. Coming up to the downhill I was ahead by about 30 or 40 seconds, and I hoped that he was going to hammer to try to catch me on the downhill, which is exactly what happened. I took it easy, and he motored down and caught me at the bottom of the hill. I figured he was either holding back and was going to crush me from there, or he just blew his quads on that hill.

Suck it up

From 21km to 22km we went pretty quick, and at that point, it’s just pure racing so I wasn’t sure if he was trying to assert dominance over me, or make a move. It was a dogfight. I couldn’t let him get that mental edge because he’d worked so hard to catch up to me, and if he’d put another 10 or 15 seconds on me it would be a strong mental boost for him. We went hard for another 1.5km, and then he settled, so I figured his move was made, and I’d held on. I decided to counter, so I waited about 30 seconds and then went. There was a short climb, and he broke, so I put my head down for 5 minutes knowing that it if I get it right, this could be the winning move of the race.

Coming over Burrard Bridge at about 30km, I had about a minute on him, and at 32km Dylan told me the guy was walking and I had 5 or 6 minutes on him. I thought to myself: sweet, I’m going to win this race! But then something weird happened: I took my foot off the gas, and suddenly everything was heightened.

Huh, it’s really hot out here.

Huh, my legs are really tired.

It was so odd, but between 32km and 34km, my entire life went downhill fast. I think I got complacent when I thought I was going to win. And on top of that, once you get on the SeaWall, there’s no crowd, so things get really quiet and you’re all by yourself. I was going through the worst blow-up I’ve ever gone through, and in a marathon. In my head I was thinking: If I finish this race I’m going to win, but I don’t know if I’m going to finish.

It was a weird sensation because when you’re training you’re visualizing all this stuff about how when you win you’re going to feel great, and you’re going to cruise to the tape, but by 35km I was trying all the mental tricks to relax enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other. At that moment it was a dark, dark road. At 40km, things changed a little bit. At that point, I could feel the finish line and knew that if I bit my lip and sucked it up for the next 10 minutes that the pain would all go away. You’re going to win a marathon, so try to enjoy it. This is something you’ve always wanted to do, so even though you’re feeling like a bag of shit, have a bit of fun here. My wife was waiting for me at the finish line, and I was in pretty rough shape when I finished, but it was tremendously satisfying, and we had a pretty amazing party afterwards, so that was cool too.

Where excellEnce comes from

There’s a lot of different theories on success being 80% mental, 20% physical or 90% mental, 10% physical, but if I'm honest, I think it’s 50-50. In running, you can be the most mentally skilled person in the world, but if you haven’t done the physical work, you’re no chance. Yes, you have to be mentally strong to get out the door every day and do the work, but in my experience and knowing what I know, I have to say that the physical work is just as important.

First and foremost, you get the results by doing the work, and if you don’t do the work, you won’t get the results. And by doing the work, you start to grow mentally. When you’re reaching and pushing yourself, that’s when you’re improving and making your body stronger, and when things are challenging, you’re developing mental skills that can help you as well. It’s an acceptance of discomfort and an acceptance of hard work.

If it’s easy, you don’t get the same impact.

What I love about running is that it combines the physical and mental self. What’s unique about human beings is this unique ability to control your brain and your body, and to have them work in harmony is an amazing thing. Mindfulness and the inner voice is all about being able to acknowledge what your body is going through and having the mental tools to deal with that. This is something I try to imprint on the athletes I coach: I don’t care how big you are or good you are, at 35km of a marathon, it’s going to suck.