Run All The States!

It had been a few years since the Philadelphia Marathon, and I started feeling that familiar itch. You know the one: the maybe I should sign up for another full marathon even though I know how hard it is kind of itch. So I scratched it by signing up for the Twin Cities Marathon’s 40th anniversary race. A couple friends had sung its praises (and warned me about a hill that apparently never ends — spoiler alert: they were not exaggerating). Plus, it’s dubbed “The Most Beautiful Urban Marathon in America,” and I’m a sucker for scenic suffering.

I picked a Hal Higdon advanced plan, not because I think I’m advanced (LOL no), but because it had a nice mix of speedwork and hill repeats that made me feel like I was doing something. Training actually went pretty well overall — I was consistent, hit my paces, and even nailed a solid 20-miler in August. But then late August and September showed up like uninvited houseguests, and I could not get my long run groove back. A 12-miler felt like 20, and an 18-miler felt like a life decision I regretted. One 20-miler turned into a sad little 13-miler. Not ideal, but I figured I had enough fitness in the bank to power through.

Touristing, Dog-ing, and Science-ing

Jack and I flew into Minneapolis the Thursday before race weekend. Sadly, the stars didn’t align for any pro sports that weekend… the Twins were away (in our hometown, of course), and it was just a smidge too early for hockey. Still, plenty to explore without sitting in stadium seats. The autumn colors were just starting to pop, and we walked along the Mississippi, checked out the dams and mills, and wandered Nicollet Island. Probably too much walking for marathon weekend, but when has that ever stopped me? Tacos rounded out the day because tacos are loyal and true.

Friday was packet pickup day in St. Paul. We took the Metro to the expo (where I exhibited restraint and limited myself to a cool sticker and hat), and visited Summit Brewing (supporting the sponsors, obviously). Then we nerded out at the Science Museum of Minnesota, where I very nearly blew out an ankle trying to “race” Goldy Gopher in a 10-yard dash video exhibit. Nothing like almost DNF-ing before the marathon, in a museum, surrounded by screaming kids.

Saturday brought more adventuring. Mill City Museum taught me more about the flour industry than I ever intended to know, and then we discovered the holy grail of joy: Unleashed Hops and Hounds, which just happened to be hosting a Barktoberfest. DOGS. EVERYWHERE. It was chaos. It was glorious. I would’ve pet every single one if I had the stamina. We wrapped the day with pizza and tried to rest our legs and hearts.

Race Day: 26.2 Miles of Nope

I woke up and checked the weather for the 1,000th time. Temperatures would be mid-50s at the start with high humidity, rising into the 70s later. Not ideal, not horrible. I walked over to the start near Vikings Stadium where a giant Viking ship loomed ominously, probably judging my life choices.

The race kicked off, and I settled into what I hoped would be a nice, easy pace through downtown. We cruised past the famous giant spoon and cherry sculpture near Loring Park — which feels like a rite of passage for this marathon — and I was feeling decent… until a 9-year-old marathoner (!) zoomed past me like it was recess and he had a juice box waiting at the finish. Meanwhile, I noticed my heart rate creeping higher than usual, even though I was purposely keeping things reined in. I tried easing up more, but my heart rate was like, “Nah, we’re gonna make this interesting.”

By mile 8, I knew I was in for a long, long day. I felt heavy, sluggish, undertrained — all the feelings I’d expect to feel around mile 22 but not 8. My body was like, “Are we sure about this?” and I thought, “Well, it’s a little late now.” The race quickly turned into a run/walk interval situation.

Still, I soaked in the beautiful course — lakes, parkways, and early fall foliage. Spectators were even shouting updates about the Vikings game in London. (Nothing motivates a Minnesotan like football, apparently.) There was plenty of on-course entertainment: music, cheer zones, live art, and happy dogs.

By the time I hit the halfway point near Lake Nokomis, I was deep in the pain cave. If this had been a hometown race, I might’ve seriously considered throwing in the towel and catching a ride to the nearest brunch spot. The runner dropout stations —clearly marked and oddly inviting — started looking like VIP lounges. But alas, my greatest athletic asset is not speed or strength — it’s sheer stubbornness. When I spotted the course alert flag had switched to yellow (“SLOW DOWN, THINGS MIGHT GET SPICY”), my body basically said, “Yeah, no kidding.”

Then I hit mile 19-ish and stumbled upon the best surprise: a giant screen that played personalized cheer videos as your timing chip triggered it. I had not one, but TWO videos waiting for me! One from my friend Sara promising post-race donuts, and another of my friends’ cat Mac jamming to “Africa” by Toto. I smiled so big my cheeks hurt. These fun videos were a big mental boost. I mean, they didn’t help me run better or anything since I was already toast — but it gave me joy, and that’s just as important.

My only wish was that you could save or view the videos again (maybe email a link after the race, pretty please, event organizers?). Because, seriously, look at this photogenic cat, and them imagine him grooving to music:

Back to slog mode. The heat was creeping up. I noticed the race flags had been changed to red, which basically means, “Extreme Caution: Consider Not Participating.” My body was like, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m considering it.”

Then came Summit Ave. The Hill. The Dread. And… it wasn’t that bad? I mean, everything else hurt, but the incline didn’t register much. At that point I had bigger problems, like my legs no longer cooperating and my soul trying to leave my body.

Me checking my watch the hundredth time and wondering how I messed this race up so bad:

Eventually, I rounded the final corner, saw the state capitol, and shuffled my way across the finish line after what felt 10 years. The beer tent was nearly out of beer (blasphemy!), but I managed to secure one like it was the last chopper out of Saigon. This was less “victory beer” and more “participation trophy in a can” based on how defeated I felt.

Was this the worst marathon of my life? Yep. Would I do it again? I mean… also yep. I’m a glutton for punishment. I know I have another marathon in me that I can feel good about and that things will align with better training, cooler weather, and fewer museum sprints.

Was this my messiest marathon yet? Yep, and I’ve completed seven of these. But yes, I’d absolutely do it again, because apparently I enjoy suffering in new and creative ways. I still believe there’s a marathon out there where the stars align: cooler temps, smarter training, and maybe slightly less sprinting through museums.

For now, I’m happily returning to half marathons where I can get to the beer tent faster.

Final Twin Cities Thoughts

• Cutest on-course moment: I pet a baby Samoyed named Sunday (or Sundae?). Very good fluff marshmallowy fluff pup.

• Made-for-me moment: Post-marathon recovery at Surly Brewing, sipping tasty beers as they blasted Skid Row and Mötley Crüe. That’s my love language.
• Most traumatic moment: Witnessing someone vomit on the Metro after the race. Runner? Party casualty? We may never know.
• Best prep materials: The race guide was a THICC 28-page PDF. Race organizers, y’all understood the assignment.