3:39:09. Here's the bill.

At kilometer 32 my legs stopped negotiating. Heart rate 161. Pace creeping past 5:15 per kilometer. The number I’d written on the start line — sub-3:30 — wasn’t going to happen.

I finished the Calgary Marathon this morning in 3:39:09.

Three years ago I weighed 320 lbs and woke up most nights choking on stomach acid. Seven years ago I owed $180,000 on consumer debt. Today I ran 42.195 km in just under three hours and forty minutes, which is 9 minutes and 9 seconds slower than what I trained for.

This is Issue #1. I’m Kiegan. I work a 28-day rotation at a SAGD facility in northern Alberta. I’m not a financial advisor and I’m not a certified coach. I’m a guy who made a lot of expensive mistakes, figured out how to fix them, and is documenting the next chapter in real time.

The next chapter is Ironman Barcelona, October 3, 2027. Today was the first checkpoint.

I went out at sub-3:30 pace. Halfway through the race I was on it.

Splits, 5 to finish: 24:38 at 5 km. 49:25 at 10 km. 1:45:12 at the half. 2:31:00 at 30 km. 3:39:09 at the line.

The first half was 1:45:12. The second half was 1:53:57. That’s an 8:45 positive split — the second half almost nine minutes slower than the first. Textbook marathon blow-up shape, just stretched over a longer fade than a true bonk.

The wall didn’t hit at km 32 like the books say. It crept in. Km 33 to km 37 each came in around 5:15 to 5:30. The last four kilometers dropped to 5:50 to 6:08. The clock kept moving. My legs stopped doing what I was asking them to.

Garmin data, pulled this afternoon:

Almost nothing in easy zones. The whole race was at or above threshold. That’s what going for a goal time feels like in numbers. It’s not graceful. It’s three hours and forty minutes of holding your hand on the stove.

Weather was 8 °C with a 5 °C wind chill, mostly cloudy, 8 km/h wind. Better than the forecast called for. I’ll take credit for the splits anyway.

Here’s what the day actually cost. Real numbers from Monarch:

Race entry $142.89 (paid Nov 20, 2025). Airbnb May 23–26 $1,091.30. Running Room (24 race gels) $103.94. Parking May 23 $73.77. Race-day pharmacy at Shoppers $23.09. Total $1,435.00 CAD.

That’s CAD. My buddy Andy stayed at the Airbnb and split the rent — pitched in $550 on April 30. My actual out-of-pocket on the day: $885.

The total doesn’t include the Saucony shoes I trained in, the Garmin watch that recorded all this, or the year of trainer rides on the Tacx. It’s just what landed on the credit card around the start line.

I didn’t budget for this. I spent what it took. Same thing I do for the rentals when a furnace dies — figure out what it costs, write the cheque, move on.

The cost of trying for sub-3:30 doesn’t refund when you miss it by 9 minutes. The entry fee, the Airbnb, the parking, the three years of training — all the same whether the clock says 3:29 or 3:39. The pain hits the same. The bill hits the same. Only the number on the wall changes.

The taper was not textbook flat. Weekly vigorous-intensity minutes dropped from a peak of 594 (week of April 6) to 366, then 256, then 222 (week of April 27). Stair-step down, not a clean line.

The last big effort was May 1 at 3:13 AM at camp on the treadmill — 19.3 km, average heart rate 149. Day-shift morning. Up at 3, finish by 5, eat, shower, pack a lunch, on the bus by 5:30, on shift at 6:30. That’s the window I trained in for most of this build.

I’ve run this race before. May 26, 2024. Same Bowness loop. Same medal design, mostly.

Finish: 5:21:33 → 3:41:01 (**−1:42:24**). Avg pace: 7:32/km → 5:12/km (−2:20/km). Avg HR: 169 → 161 bpm (−8 bpm). Body weight: ~**240 lbs → 195 lbs** (−45 lbs). Weekly run mileage, prior 12 months: 14.1 km → 28.5 km (+102%).

Read that table top to bottom. One hour and forty-two minutes faster. Lower heart rate. Forty-five pounds lighter. Twice the weekly running volume coming in.

The 2024 version of me crossed the same line at 5:21:33 with no real plan for what came next. Today’s version went out chasing sub-3:30, missed by 9 minutes, and is already looking at the back half of the build. Same race. Different person.

I went out at the goal pace I’d trained for. The splits say I had it through halfway. The second half says I didn’t have a few more weeks of long-run volume to back it up.

Kilometer 30 felt easy. It was all downhill from there. That’s the thought that popped into my head, anyway.

The honest reason I faded: the front of my left leg — hip flexor, I think — started killing me somewhere around km 30. By km 33 I couldn’t push through it. The pace slid.

It probably came from somewhere unsexier than training. I built a Murphy bed by myself the Wednesday and Thursday before the race. Andy was staying over Friday and I’d planned to do the build during an earlier off-block, but I picked up overtime and spent three weeks at camp instead. The build took longer than I thought. Marathon thirty-six hours later. The hip flexor was the bill.

Two things are true at the same time. Today I went out chasing a number I didn’t quite have the legs for. Today I also ran the same course 102 minutes faster than the version of me who started this. Both are real. The miss is the work for the next race. The hour and forty-two is the proof there’s a next race to work for.

Next stop: Victoria 70.3, May 2027. Then Ironman Barcelona five months later. The swim is the part I’m most unprepared for, which is convenient, because that’s what next week’s issue is about.

Reply and tell me what number you went out chasing this year — and whether you caught it.

— Kiegan