The Great Raisin River Footrace
A Quiet Little Classic
The first thing that strikes you about the Great Raisin River Footrace, in Williamstown, Ont., is that it’s not so very great, if only size matters. This year they got near their cap of 500, which still leaves plenty of room on the road. In the pumped up scale of today’s mass races, when getting through a city marathon can feel like battling Toronto subway crowds at rush hour, it’s refreshing to go back to the sport’s grass roots, for a modest-sized race closely connected to its community and the land.
The Great Raisin River Footrace is run beside a placid stream where the heron silently watches the tree ref lections for his breakfast, one of the last quiet places of the earth. But across the river come the triumphant bellows of prize animals and the throbbing music of a fairground. This little riverside road race is also part of a big, noisy, two-day party, along with the parades, the bagpipes, and the agricultural contests of the annual Williamstown Fair. The best bull and the curliest cabbage got equal attention this weekend with Ed Whitlock and Kathrine Switzer.
Williamstown sits in the rural eastern corner of Ontario, so the race lures runners from Ottawa and Montreal who want a day in the country. They come also to enjoy a race small enough for every performance to matter, so intimate that soon you’re friends with the race director. Well, actually, it’s a husband-wife team, the Lafaves, and the tireless Wendell is out running the race in the middle of the pack while Sheila’s directing things at the finish, so there’s a good chance of getting to know both if your pace is right. Behind them stand a small group of dedicated women runners, who travel the world as the Raisin River Ramblers, and once a year put on this miniature classic. Underpinned by chip timing, a results service and announcing, Raisin River’s olde-tyme atmosphere makes it a prestigious destination for road race connoisseurs.
“The fair is part of the attraction, becoming more joyously animated as the race activities wind down. Coming from Ottawa, we enter a new land of antique tractors, highland dancing, feats of strength and heritage livestock,” said Ottawa coach Roger Burrows, one of many regulars. “And it’s technically sound and participant-centred. Any race that can count a running purist like Joe DuVall in every running since its inception has something special going for it,” Burrows adds.
DuVall, from Ottawa, has run all 35 Raisin Rivers. He also sees the fair (Canada’s oldest) as essential to the unique ambience.
“It’s a yearly treat. You drive and then race through this pure rural countryside where all the homesteads show such care and pride, and then you’re immersed
in the sounds, sights, smells and tastes of the fair, said DuVall. “There’s livestock, music, the sound of the guys splitting logs with axes, food and the smell of hay and animal crap. It’s a total sensory experience.”
Louise Wood, of Portland, Ont., who 40 years ago was a groundbreaking pioneer, Canada’s second woman to run a sub-3:00 marathon, was happy to be one of the pack, second in the 60 to 64. She ref lected on how Raisin River cures running obsessiveness.
“The stuff around the race means a runners’ family and friends might get some enjoyment from the day out. Runners can be self-centred, and getting out of ourselves to enjoy some pigs and horses is not a bad idea.”
The unusual 11k distance adds its quirky appeal. That happens to be the distance from the fairground to MacGillivray’s Bridge upstream, then over the bridge and back along Heron Road (yes, where the heron lives) to town.
“The distance is a symbol of the lovely disconnect between Williamstown and any normal Sunday morning race, said Burrows. “It’s a day when nobody cares about pace charts or injuries, or agonizes over 10k goals.”
“It means there’s no pressure to compare your time, so you just enjoy racing,” Whitlock wryly told the crowd at the awards ceremony. (He ran 49:33, 4:31/km pace, in case you want to make comparisons, though at age 82 they are hard to find.)
Whitlock runs Raisin River most years, and is practically family. He even resides year-round in the Lafave family home, in the form of a life-size cardboard cut-out photo. On race day, this image is propped near the finish to encourage the runners, along with similar lifelike figures of Kathrine Switzer and Roger Robinson, guests in 2013, and Bill Rodgers, also family.
Another famous celebrated runner embraced by the event is Canadian legend Tom Longboat. The world-famous Onondagan ran the precursor version back in 1908, when every long road race was called a marathon. They have since named the race trophy after him.
“The big feature of the fair was the marathon. The distance was six miles. The crowd was so thick that at times there were collisions between runners and spectators, and this led to some confusion. Longboat won easily, in 34:57,” reported the Cornwall Freeholder on Sept. 25, 1908.
The race was revived in 1978, early in the first running boom, and was developed by a series of colourful race directors. One, Bill Chambre, once singlehandedly blocked the advance of a large horse trailer-truck roaring impatiently towards the fair, so that his runners were not at risk.
“OK, not exactly Tiananmen Square, but it did help get the fair’s board’s concurrence with closing the road,” Chambre recalled.
That sort of personal involvement is typical. The Raisin River folk work to enhance their community, its fair and local charities, but above all to create a memorable race experience. That’s refreshing in an era when runner numbers sometimes become the mere bottom-line for corporate shareholders.
“I hated to leave on Sunday,” wrote DuVall a few days later. After running Raisin River for 35 consecutive years, there’s a good chance he’ll be back. Roger Robinson is an international writer on running who still holds the masters record at the BMO Vancouver Marathon. He is currently seeking races that offer big-money awards for over-70 men with one knee replacement.