SeaWheeze Came Back. Where Were All the Runners?

Vancouver’s most anticipated running event returned and left me wondering who our expensive races are designed for.

Aug 14, 2026

SeaWheeze returned to Vancouver last weekend after a long Covid-induced break. Sadly, I didn’t run it, and apparently neither did anyone I know. That was the part I found strange, hence this post.

After moving to Vancouver and ditching the long Calgary winters, my running career “took off” with 17 ultra/marathons (and counting).1 While I consider myself a very average runner, I used to be a substitute run club leader, and participated in more local races than I care to count. I’ve learned to appreciate running solo, but will still check out some select groups when I can. As a result, my Strava friends group represents a reasonably broad cross-section of people who run and race around Vancouver.

So whenever there’s a local event, my Strava feed lights up, even if I’m not participating myself. This weekend with SeaWheeze returning - almost nothing: I didn’t see a single SeaWheeze finisher among the runners I normally see racing around Vancouver. Ouch2

Instagram shared another story

Meanwhile, my Instagram feed painted a different story. The algorithm immediately coughed up a local influencer showing off her SeaWheeze medal. I’m not naming any names, but she usually posts about travel, not running or fitness. Congratulations, nonetheless, in case you read this: a medal is a medal and I’d be the last not to cheer on fellow runners of any capacity. Cheers to you.

Meanwhile, I noticed a lot of people last week whom I don’t normally see during my runs. Several of these visitors were filming themselves with selfie sticks, and one guy even had a drone following him. It made me wonder: Is this about running, or more about creating content?

I’m not suggesting Lululemon packed the start line with influencers while actual Vancouver runners were left out. There was a lottery, and plenty of ordinary runners undoubtedly got lucky. Just not me, and disappointment aside, that’s fine. But here’s a reality check: the lottery accounted for less than half of the running field, and the lottery wasn’t the only route into SeaWheeze.

Lululemon offered early access to higher-spending customers, while “employees, legacy runners, ambassadors and other strategic partners” also made up part of the field. That fine print makes the picture considerably more complicated than simply saying 10,000 runners entered a lottery and only some got lucky.

The SeaWheeze Training Plan

Based on the spend tiers, my SeaWheeze training plan for next year should focus more on giving my American Express Card a workout as spending $1,000+ on Lululemon will improve my odds. That may explain why a lot of runners were decked out in Lululemon gear top to bottom this weekend.

Full disclosure: Despite my observations and being unlucky in the lottery aside, I’m not interested in attacking Lululemon over any of this. I wanted to get into SeaWheeze, and will probably try again for next year if my schedule aligns.

SeaWheeze appears to have delivered something many Vancouver running events increasingly struggle to provide: an actual event.

I Can Run 21.1 Kilometres for Free

I can run a (half) marathon for free any day of the week, and I often do. I don’t need a race organizer to charge me actual money for the same medal they gave out last year.

When I pay more than $100 to enter a race, I’m paying for the experience around those kilometres: I want a properly supported course with crowds, aid stations and a finish line that feels like I crossed a finish line. Yes, I like receiving a medal, and a finisher shirt I want to wear again. I also enjoy exploring the race expo and, despite telling myself I don’t need anything, buying a lot of stuff anyway. It’s all part of the experience.

None of those things are necessary to run a half marathon, which is precisely my point. If I’m paying for a race, I’m paying for more than the ability to move my legs the advertised distance: I’m paying for the event experience. And while local Vancouver race registration prices have steadily climbed, I’m not convinced the experience has kept up with the pace.

When “Included” Stops Being Useful

Last year’s Vancouver Half Marathon was a small example of what I mean: the race shirt was cotton. Seriously? There’s a saying among runners that cotton is rotten, and there’s a practical reason for it: cotton doesn’t breathe well, it absorbs moisture, and gets heavy. Why give this out as a runner’s shirt? Almost every piece of clothing I actually run in (or wear on in-office days) is made from some kind of technical fabric.

A cotton race shirt may technically allow an organizer to tick the box marked “shirt included,” but that doesn’t make it useful running gear. So I skipped the Vancouver Half Marathon this year, and donated my cotton shirt last year to the Salvation Army as I wasn’t going to wear it, period.

Then there’s a growing popularity of “green bib” registrations, where runners can opt out of shirts, medals or other race items, disguised as sustainability. I like the idea, but sustainability shouldn’t become a convenient way to remove things runners may actually use while registration prices continue moving in the opposite direction. Most if not all “green bibs” cost the same as a full registration including all the swag, so how is this sustainable?

Make The Medal Great Again

Organizing a race isn’t cheap. Race organizers have to pay for road closures, policing, permits, medical support, timing equipment, staff and insurance - just to name a few. But runners are customers too. As prices rise, it’s reasonable to ask whether the experience is getting better. At this rate, local running events may eventually become unsustainable despite all the “sustainability” efforts.

For example, RUNVAN has incorporated Indigenous artwork into its events, and their medal designs are beautiful. The only issue is that the indigenous art component has been identical for several years running.

Maybe it’s time to pay the Indigenous artist more than once to create another amazing design. Consider changing more than the year stamped on the front, and give runners something new they’re excited to see each year. Make the medal truly collectible again.

Expensive Is Not the Same as Experience Value

At a registration fee of about $325, SeaWheeze wasn’t cheap. But if you’ve been with me for a while, you know price and experience value aren’t the same thing. Yes, viewed just as a half marathon, SeaWheeze is expensive.

I’m running the New York City Marathon later this year, and once you start paying for major destination races, flights, hotels, meals and everything else surrounding major running events, the definition “expensive” gets put into perspective. A local race not requiring any flights or hotel stays typically is a good idea from a budget perspective.

When viewed as an experience, including Lululemon gear, race activities, a festival, food, entertainment and a highly produced weekend in downtown Vancouver, the idea of “expensive” changes. As a result, runners wanted to get in. Lululemon seems to understand something other race organizers have conveniently forgotten about: runners will get excited about an event when you give them something worth getting excited about.

Designed Around Running, or Designed for Runners?

Maybe this year’s return of SeaWheeze became so good at representing the brand that it felt disconnected from the community that gives the event its reason to exist.

There’s an odd parallel sitting in my running drawer: a pair of Lululemon running shorts. The material is fantastic, they look good, and they’re comfortable. No surprises there, but then you notice the open pockets.

For a casual 5k run, open pockets may be fine. But when I’m heading out for my weekly long run carrying a phone, keys, gels and whatever else I need for a couple of hours, my Brooks shorts feel as they were designed for running. A single zippered pocket doesn’t do the trick. My good looking Lululemon shorts feel like an excellent product designed with running as an afterthought, while my Brooks shorts feel designed for runners from the start.

SeaWheeze left me with a similar impression as my shorts.

SeaWheeze Raised the Bar

I’d love to see local organizers look at SeaWheeze and ask how they can make their event an experience that’s even better next year: better shirts, unique medals, stronger expos, finish areas that are worth remembering and sticking around for. I can’t be bothered to run another event and get the exact same “Indigenous art” medal as last year.

At the same time, I’d like to see Lululemon ask a different question before SeaWheeze hopefully returns next year: How do we make sure Vancouver’s running community feels included in Vancouver’s “biggest” running celebration? Because I didn’t this time around - and more importantly, none of my somewhat-representative Strava community didn’t either. And that’s a shame.

SeaWheeze may have evolved from a running-community event into a carefully curated brand experience that happens to include a half marathon ran by people resembling that exact brand head-to-toe. I don’t think that’s the goal, as this well-produced event looked different from almost every other race in Vancouver on many levels. Yes, my personal lottery disappointment aside, I still want at least some of my running circle to be there as more than volunteers.

See you next year?