Pines, Lakes, and Grandmas

It all started when my friend Corey, called me in October. He had just finished a half marathon and wanted to let me know he was ready for the challenge of a marathon (I convinced him to run his first half in 2019). He lives in Minnesota, and I had had my eyes on the Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth for a the past couple of years. I simply mentioned to him that the Grandma’s Marathon was one to look at, and to let me know when he might want to do it…five minutes later he texted me a picture of his registration.

Immediately, I was a little panicked. I was already doing the Honolulu Marathon in December, and I knew that another marathon only 6 months later was a little bit of a stretch for me (usually I wait at least 6 months to even start training for another one), but he signed up, so what was I to do? Leave him high and dry for his FIRST marathon? One that I had recommended? No. I couldn’t do that. So instead, I said screw it—I registered, booked the hotel and the flights, and set my eyes on training my 7th marathon.

The morning started with a crappy cup of coffee at the Super 8 in Duluth (literally the only hotel available when we called in November to find place to stay), a chilly and stressful dash to the transportation pick up, and an exciting realization that we made it in time to catch the train to the start line. The train ride took us along the coast of Lake Superior, with the sun rising above the lake the moment we took a turn towards the coast—it was beautiful and breathtaking, and exactly the start to the morning that I needed to calm my nerves. I was nervous about this race for so many reasons. I began my training with the goal of qualifying for Boston, but that goal quickly took a back seat when I pulled my hamstring in week 10 of training. I had just started to feel comfortable at higher paces again, and I still really wanted to PR, but I was trying to be realistic about my goals at the same time—cue the nerves.

When we stepped off the train, we were greeted with the smell of pine trees, which was honestly so refreshing and rejuvenating. The air was crisp, and the excitement around us was real. Corey and I had met another runner on the train who was also doing her first marathon and I had so much fun explaining strategies and what to expect on the first one. After getting off the train we made our way to the longest porta-potty line I have ever seen. It wrapped around the bathrooms twice, and I knew after standing in the same spot for over 10 minutes that we wouldn’t make it to the bathroom before the race. I looked at a woman behind me and jokingly asked if she would come to the woods to pee with me. We laughed and decided what the hell, let’s go. Upon leaving the woods I wished her luck; I didn’t see her again, but I will forever be grateful that she came into unknown territory with me.

I made it to the start line and the 3:40 pace group with enough time to start my music and my watch. The race started and it was great. The energy was contagious, and my music started with a song from the Greatest Showman soundtrack—always a great start to a race! I was jamming, and cruising at a great pace. My goal was to keep the pace between an 8:10-8:20 and I did the first 10k within that range.

But then the race took a downward turn….the camber of the road got to my hips, and there was a shooting pain on my right hip that went through my calf muscle, and I could not shake it. With every downhill my IT band vibrated and every uphill I felt my hip and quad lock up. On top of this, the gel that I ate at mile 5 seemed to just be sitting in my stomach, and my music stopped playing completely. My pace quickly dropped, and I realized that my goal was not in reach anymore.

At the halfway point, I really did not want to continue. I saw my husband and Corey’s wife, Melissa, a little past the 13.1 marker and I stopped to tell him that I didn’t know if I could finish. I was on the verge of tears from the pain and all I wanted to do was throw up so my nausea would go away. After a quick hug and words of encouragement, I decided to keep going and see how far I could go before potentially dropping out.

Without music, the next few miles were the WORST. I tried to vibe off the people around me and the cheers from the crowd, to take in the beautiful views of Lake Superior and the pines, but there is only so much the sound of other people breathing and stomping around you can do in terms of motivation. Around mile 16 a guy behind me screamed a Taylor Swift song (“it’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me”…we all know the one), which I found hilarious and weirdly positive, so I kept going. I hit all the power up signs, and had as much fun as I could through the ups and downs of the course, trying to ignore my pain and take in fuel when I could.

When we got to Lemon Drop Hill, I felt a second wind, there was only 4 miles to go, and I knew the worst part of the race was behind me—all I had to do was get to mile 26 and I would make it. I was on course to get the race done in under 4, which was my “C” goal. I talked to a few people along the way, offered encouragement, and received encouragement. When I got to mile 26 I saw my husband and Melissa, and I knew I was about to be done. The final quarter of a mile was the longest ending to a race I’ve ever had. I kicked up the pace and focused on the one thing on my mind—there was ice cold beer at the finish line with my name on it.

As I crossed the finish line, I felt a little disappointed in myself. I wanted so badly to have a PR for this race, whether it was a Boston Qualifier or not, but I knew that there were still so many things I should be proud of: I have always taken months off of running between marathons, and this was the first that I did not take a break after. I had pulled my hamstring halfway through the training process, and had to take 10 days off of running, and even more time off of the speed work and tempo runs. Despite all the things that went on that should have prevented me from completing this race, I still did it, and that was something that I should have been proud of.

Despite how I felt after the race, seeing my friend complete his first marathon made it all worth it. Honestly, there is no better feeling that watching the people I love accomplish goals they set for themselves and seeing him cross the finish line when he also had an injury during training was invigorating. It might not have been the best race for me, but at the end of the day, this race was more about him than me, and we’ll forever have this memory together.

In the end I accomplished my 7th marathon (that’s 7 more than a lot of other people can say they did), and ran in my 11th state. I plan on spending the next few weeks resting up and reflecting over the last training cycle to figure out different strategies to implement for my next race—one that I hope you will follow me along for.