Destination Race
Terroir Run, Prince Edward County, Ont.
Two elephants walk into a bar.
The bartender takes one look at them and says: “You’re trunk.” I spit out my Chardonnay laughing. So does the runner in the elephant costume, who told me the joke. We’re both actually a little trunk. We just finished the Terroir Run – a 10k through Prince Edward County, Ont. – and to celebrate, we’ve been sipping whites and reds from all ten of the wineries on the route.
The Terroir Run is modelled after France’s famous Medoc Marathon – a bacchanalian race through wine country, with pit stops for regional delicacies washed down by Bordeaux. The main difference: at the Terroir Run, you’re not slurping wine and guzzling foie gras as you run; all gluttony begins after the finish line. (Not a fan of throwing up in vineyards, I embrace this twist.)
Terroir “means taste of place,” and is a term often used by winemakers to describe the inf luence of soil and climate on their wines. The idea of Terroir Run is to get a
well-rounded taste of Prince Edward County – as much by running past the vines and bucolic farmland, as by feasting on local fare.
Terroir Run eschews f luorescent energy drinks and instead offers water, natural blueberry juice, iced lavender tea and maple sap water for hydration. Rather than bite into leaden white bagels, runners refuel on handmade energy bars, loaded with seeds, oats and dried fruits, created and handwrapped in waxed paper and string by chef Julia Graham, of the Quirky Carrot in Alexandria, Ont.
Costumes are encouraged and often booze-themed. After the starting gun goes off, I pace myself by the botrytis bandit – a.k.a Karin Desveaux – whose extra-geeky villain costume represents the winemaker’s scourge: grape mould. And I’m overtaken early on in the race by a 6'2" beer bottle.
While the fastest racer speeds across the finish line in just under 40 minutes, this year, Terroir Run is above all focused on food, drink and fun. It’s a family-friendly event, where accompanied kids can join in, hence the sight of Jack – the son of organizers Rebecca Leheup and Andrew Mackenzie – zipping past me in a mini cloud of dust. The 12-year-old had only ever run the length of a soccer field prior
to race day. Finish time: 55 minutes. Ugh!
Dogs are welcome at Terroir Run, too. Copper, a Vizla in a chartreuse performance shirt, seems particularly excited about this inclusivity as she tears by Lacey Estate Winery, around the halfway mark. There are also terriers, labs, pugs and a couple of mutts. They’re running this year in honour of recently departed winemaker Richard Karlo, a sponsor of Terroir Run from its inception five years ago and a big-hearted animal lover. Some proceeds from the run also went to his favourite charity, Quinte Humane Society.
I race for a stretch with Karlo’s widow, Sherry. As we pass apple orchards, lilac bushes and centuries-old farmhouses, she tells me about her wedding vows, taken on a drystone bridge at her winery, this time last year. Then we talk about her late husband’s legacy and the first wine she’s about to release since his death, last fall. When we reach the Karlo Estates-sponsored watering station – the only one with DJs and the last on our route – we add five minutes to our finishing time with a spontaneous (and cathartic) dance party in his honour.
As we reach Norman Hardie Winery and the finish line, I detect a whiff of bonfire from last night’s straw-bale burning – there were unexpected frosts overnight that put the budding vines in peril. Many of the winemakers filling runners’ glasses are bleary-eyed from staying up and fanning these fires in the wee hours to circulate warm air and save their crops. But they’re gracious enough to smile and congratulate finishers as they pour. Just like runners, winemakers know all about dusting oneself off after setbacks and getting back out there.
Post-race, everyone’s main concern is kicking back on the sunny patio and tucking into wood-fired pizza, bottomless wine glass in hand. As canine athletes slumber by sneaker-clad feet, friendships are being forged. I turn to the elephant beside me. “What’s white, with a long neck and a buttery nose?” He shrugs and shakes his trunk. “That bottle of Chardonnay you’re about to pass me.”