A couple weeks ago I “ran” the lululemon SeaWheeze Half Marathon. I use quotes here because I did run some of it, maybe a mile or two, but mostly power walked at a pace that later made me incredibly sore.
I’ve never run-walked beyond pacing an ultra. I’ve never walked in a real race. But this past March, I had knee surgery: a complex meniscus tear repair, which requires about a year to recover from. Prior to that I was barely running, so I’ve been on my longest break since high school; the first in 20 years of consistently doing ~60-80 miles a week. Probably not the worst thing...but for me, surgery was one of a few identity-shaking events I’ve experienced as someone who primarily identifies as runner, and structures most of my life around it—friends, free time, where I live, what I wear.
When lululemon asked me about running the SeaWheeze Half Marathon in Vancouver, my initial inclination was to decline. I was only 5 months out of surgery, and had barely run more than 10 total minutes, and no more than 30 seconds without stopping. Not only that, it didn’t seem to me like a “real” race. And it’s not, really—which is a great thing—but more on that later.
I mentioned it to the Substack crew Katie and Lee, who both encouraged me to give it a shot. Katie mentioned that she’d had a wonderful time many years ago running it, and it helped actually get her into running. It was a full experience: seeing the best of Vancouver, great vibes on the course, and a headliner concert. It was not really about the race.
I did a little of my own research as well on Reddit.
SeaWheeze Short History
SeaWheeze is more of a running festival in Vancouver. It is a massive race of 10,000+ people, probably one of the largest races owned (not sponsored) by a brand in the modern era of running. Surprising, given how popular running is these days. Seemingly everyone is hopping in to get a piece of the race machine. I had assumed lululemon was doing the same, only to realize the SeaWheeze had started in 2012 and flourished until COVID. It had a cult-like lululemon following who regularly bought out registration tickets in minutes. The community around this race LOVES it and is obsessed with the merch. People on Reddit were feral for gear, asking months in advance when it would drop, availability, and used to camp out ahead of time. It’s so popular, people resell it online, and it has it’s own page on the IG explore feed.
When it came back, mostly people were thrilled. This time it was a more democratic draw system, which prioritized people who raced it before – which made up about 25% of the race. 75% of people racing were through the draw system. Pretty incredible return rate for a 7 year hiatus. The only complaint was the $325 price tag, which for the amenities, pre race events, merch, post race brunch, and subsequent EDM show featuring Lollapalooza headliner John Summit, didn’t feel that steep. It’s steep if you just want to race a half marathon. And in that case just find the nearest one to you. But if you want a race weekend or race-cation, this is great.
It’s low stakes, Vancouver is gorgeous in August, and the concert is it’s own thing. People buy tickets just for that.
I was able to run some questions by Kara Schlosser, VP of North America Community. Specifically I was interested in how the race seemed to really highlight Vancouver.
Designing the weekend to highlight our hometown was honestly an honour. Starting with our pre-race expo, “PreWheeze”, is all about building the buzz and excitement... The route itself is an exciting tour through the city, so runners can soak up different neighborhoods, epic ocean views along the seawall sections, and lively community cheer zones. The post-race celebration is just as intentional; an afterparty in Stanley Park against the backdrop of the city couldn’t be more “Vancouver”.
As other brands are trying to buy up trail races, sponsor marathons, and jockey for position amongst their competitors for the best popup, lululemon is doing their own thing. It’s as much a celebration for their company locally as it is for the people who show up to race.
It seems like they’re investing more heavily into running as well. I love that they sponsor Nikki Hiltz, and to a degree still Colleen Quigley, but I was surprised that both of them signed at the time as pros. For lulu, it’s putting them on the map performance-wise, even if Nikki doesn’t race (or run, to my knowledge) in the shoes. Maybe that’ll change, soon. The group I went with got a 2027 product preview, and I learned that they very recently hired a full footwear team. Their running shoes were fine for my race, but notably people were not racing in them. They’re not bad, they’re just not up to par with a lot of the apparel lululemon makes. They’re an apparel-led brand and do a lot of innovative stuff. It’ll be cool to see how that mindset comes to life in the future footwear.
In the mean time they’ve been putting out some sick leopard print, and most of their running apparel is slept on. The Fast and Free half tights are one of the top recs on r/runningfashion. I spent 3 hours in them and they have great pocket storage, feel super soft, and fit me great. No chafe, and had no issues carrying my phone, wallet, and a Clif Bar1.
For the first time in my life, this type of race was more up my alley.
I don’t usually share my performance background on here, but I’ve been a lifelong competitive runner. It feels silly listing my accolades, but I was a high school All American, and still hold some records in the region. Post collegiately I was still racing track and XC up until a couple years ago.
So for me, that type of running is “real running” — track, cross country, road racing. Which I know is ridiculous, and I would never tell anyone they’re not a real runner. If you run, you’re a runner. But coming from a world where you’re racing for blood and hitting 90 mile weeks to chase OTQs, this doesn’t feel like racing.
So I decided to take them up on it — hard to beat a free trip to Vancouver and comped entry / concert. They were very understanding of my abilities and didn’t pressure me to actually race it. But despite my better judgement, and against the will of my physio, I raced it.
It was the first time I showed up at a race wondering if I belonged out there. I’ve never felt that way at a race before. Usually, if I’m not in shape I simply don’t race. I hate having bad times on my rap sheet.
I’m used to being on the starting line, legs shaking nervously, in 1” split shorts, singlet, and BreathRite strip, stomach cramping from 6 trips to the porta potty and 200mg of caffeine. This time, I “lined up” at the very back of the 3:30 pace group, near the broom wagon, who kindly told me I could step off at any point. It was funny being nervous for a different reason—would I make the cutoff? Instead of placing or hitting a PR, my “A” goal was to beat the broom wagon. I didn’t feel like a veteran of 20 years. I felt like was surrounded by other people who were more prepared than me, even though it was their first time racing a half!
This was the perfect place for that: 46% of the people there were running their first half. My other group mates were super supportive. The pacers were all really welcoming. There were many people who were nervous, or excited, and the pacers were like camp counselors—encouraging everyone, fielding questions, and guiding anyone lost. It was perhaps the least intimidating racing environment I’ve ever been in, great for runners new to the distance or who have a more casual relationshionship with racing than I.
I started with a brisk walk, and surprised myself with a couple minutes of running in all the excitement. I sometimes get emotional watching big races, but this was one of the first times I cried actually running one. My first real strides in a long time, my first real race in a long time. Once I was in the flow, and the loads of locals and lulu employees were cheering us on, I was racing. Having fun, but focused and racing.
I finished in 2:48, slower than my undocumented marathon PR, and slower than the half marathon loop I did long runs on in high school. But I surpassed all of my goals, and had a lot of fun. I stopped by every cheer section. I got to take in the city views, instead of tasting pennies and having tunnel vision for 70 minutes.
It was cute seeing each of the stations, easily no more than a mile apart along the way. Many of them were tied to the neighborhoods they passed through. Plenty of them were clearly lululemon team, but many weren’t! I asked Kara about that:
Many of our cheer stations are designed by our local store teams – we offer them space and creative freedom but in a way that supports runners and their location on course. We also team up with local organizations and community groups that we’re in ongoing partnerships with to offer them visibility on course.
Relationship Changes Are Hard
I’ve read this so many places before, and every time I find it relatable. Breaking up with running is hard.
I’ve had several changes with my relationship to running. The first was when I realized I was actually pretty good at it, thanks to being 5’6” and not a strong rower, but beating most of the other oarsmen during the ample dryland season in Buffalo. The second was when I realized that there was more to life than running. After many records and accolades in high school, I showed up to Williams College thinking I’d waltz into All American. Sophomore year I got mono and had a full reset. I still hung out with the team, but it was a really isolating experience with all these extra hours. Running structured my life. I started dabbling in UI design and web development (a good thing). That was a new thing I could latch my identity onto, because before that, I was Just A Runner. I struggled to come back after that. I never lived up to that high school potential, which weighed me down well into my post collegiate years. It took me a while, but I finally experienced a bit of ego-death, which let the new version of myself flourish.
Almost 2 years ago my knee started bothering me. I was training to hopefully win the Buffalo Marathon, and finally had a day where I couldn’t make it down the stairs. After months of trying everything but surgery, I gave in. I stopped (almost all) running and fully committed myself to cycling, to Substack, and a lot of other things. I knew my life couldn’t just be cross-training until I could run again; I had to de-commit from competitive running for a while. I only recently came to terms with the fact that my last indoor 3k was probably the last time I will run a PR on the track.
I still am a runner, and it’s still most of everything I care about, but I’m also a lot of other things even if I don’t always recognize it myself. At SeaWheeze, everyone’s a runner, but it’s hardly anyone’s full identity and that’s kind of a cool thing. After being “all in or all out,” I’ve been appreciating a bit more balance in my running. SeaWheeze was the first time I actually embraced it.
Once I’m back to running, I’m not sure what it will look like which is still scary. But being open to races like this, and experiences outside pure competition, has been really fulfilling.
Here’s a cute pic of Lee Glandorf and I though, shout out Substack for bringing us together :)
Thanks for reading more of a personal one. Regularly scheduled programming on Friday with the latest gear and whatever the hell is going on at UTMB.
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Not very half-marathon of me, but 3 hours is a long time and I wanted to pack something closer to a meal than a gel.
Here for all your accolades. Love me washed up hs all American.
Good read, for people of any age and knee status. This double-meniscectomy guy is proud of you.
I turned 50 last week, and atm can hammer out a handful of 7:30 miles, which feels amazing. In high school though, I lost points in PE because I couldn't finish a single one under 10 minutes. I'm reminded of this every day, since I'm now a high school teacher (and sports photographer).
After my first meniscus surgery in my late thirties, that surgeon told me I should never run again. I spent the next 5+ years mostly doing other things. I was racked with regret that I didn't know or appreciate that my last runs were going to be my last. Eventually I got back up to ten or so miles per week, and even if they were dumb ones, I tried to appreciate them as if they might be my last.
After tearing my other meniscus (both acute tears, neither running-related), I couldn't wait to get back on the road. That surgeon assured me that I could run more regularly. Buoyed by this news, and by my inspiring and supportive students who hype me on Strava, I entered the best running years of my life.
I've never been a competitive person. No team sports. No races. Certainly no 90 mile weeks and 1" splits. For me, running has always been a deeply personal endeavor. For my mental health mostly, but I do take special pride in regularly setting off the low heart rate alarm at the doctors office 💀. It wasn't until running was gone, that I realized how much I need it... in any form and duration. And these days, every run is my favorite, because I remind myself that it might be my last. Cliche, but honestly true. I hope you can find similar peace.
Good luck on your recovery. They must have tried to sew you back together?? I thought that was super rare? The best part of meniscus PT is that there isn't anything to damage, so you can push as hard as you want 😬