Running With My Dad

A septuagenarian’s half marathon debut.

Two Nicos running the 2009 Toronto Half Marathon.

During a family visit to Toronto almost two decades ago, my dad announced that he was going to start training for a half marathon. Immediately, I said that I would fly back and run it with him. Back then, I was racing a lot on trails: a half marathon here, a marathon there, plus a few 50-mile ultras. But this would also be my first road half marathon, and I was excited to share the experience with Dad.

Once we decided on a race, we laid out a training plan. Mostly, my dad would run 5 km loops in our neighborhood. During the summer I was able to join Dad on a few training runs, while my brother provided tips on stretching.

So on Sunday October 18, 2009, on a cold morning in Toronto, my Dad toed the line of his first half marathon, and as his pacer I ran with him every step of the way. The entire family supported Dad on race weekend. Mom cooked a pre-race Peruvian-style carb-loading pasta dinner, and my brother dropped us off at the start then picked us up at the finish.

I remember that when I was a kid, Dad and I would sometimes get up to run before dawn. The streets were deserted, and the uniformly spaced street lamps cast our moving shadows on the pavement. I didn’t realize it then, but that routine instilled in me a strong discipline that I’ve carried with me the rest of my life. The discipline of getting up early, for running, for school, for work. My dad loved early mornings. I think that if he wasn’t an engineer, he would have been a baker, just to get up early.

The half marathon (13.1 miles) started at 8 a.m., an hour before the full marathon (26.2 miles), so we were up by 5 a.m. to have our morning café con leche before heading off to the start line. It was below freezing, but I still wore shorts. However, I told Dad that he should wear track pants. Over 5,000 runners were lined up at the start, all ready for the adventure ahead.

The course started in North York and headed south along Yonge St and then Bayview Ave, before turning due west along Front St, past the St Lawrence Market, and finishing up University Ave at Queen’s Park next to the University of Toronto. Though it was cold, whenever we ran in the sun I would say it was warm:

¡Uy, qué rico sol, qué calorcito!

Though Dad trained a run / walk combination, he ran most of the race while I did my best to keep him hydrated and motivated. I carried water bottles for him so that he would not have to stop at aid stations.

Toma un poquito de agua.

And kept an eye on our pace and progress.

Estamos bien de hora.

I also carried gels for fueling and Tylenol, which came in handy, and I told him he looked strong.

Te ves muy fuerte, papi.

Though this was his first race, running was not new to my dad. In his 30s and 40s I saw him play fútbol with friends, sprinting across the pitch. And he was also a strong tennis player that quickly shuffled side to side on the court, relentlessly running down every shot. It turns out he had been training for a half marathon for a while.

Throughout the race, I reminded my dad that all he had to do was his usual 5 km training run 4 times, and a bit more. He estimated it would take about 3 and a half or 4 hours to finish, and I told him I would bring him in under 3 hours.

A few miles from the finish, the race’s lead vehicle with flashing lights went by. I glanced behind and there was a Kenyan marathoner about to pass us. So for a brief moment, a Peruvian father and son were ahead of the Kenyans, though we started an hour before they did and only had to run half as far.

Dad crossed the finish line in 2 hours and 54 minutes, and I was very proud that he finished top 10 in his age group. All day, my dad showed real perseverance. He was in pain, he was cold, he was tired, but he never stopped moving. And in his early 70s he taught me that it’s never too late to do something physically challenging, like race a road half marathon for the first time.