Grandma’s Half Marathon Recap

This past weekend, Collin and I headed up north with 9 of our friends to take on Grandma’s Half Marathon in Duluth. I had been looking forward to the event for weeks. In the chaos of life recently (full time job, grad school, and the seemingly endless peripheral responsibilities of parenthood), returning to running hasn’t been the smoothest. My brain has felt stretched 1,000 different directions much of the time. I’ve clung to each and every training run - from a 3 mile plod to an extended track workout - as a point of comfort and predictability.

**Grandma’s 2022 - 1:39:05. Joyful and elated!**

I planned give this race a solid effort, but I knew expectations had to be reasonable. I set my half PR in 2021 in Fargo (1:34). This was pre-baby, which meant at the time I was getting way more sleep, more consistent nutrition and had more time to strength train. I knew that it would be stupid to try to PR during this season of my life, and furthermore, I needed to ensure I could recover relatively quickly and be in fine form within 24 hours to care for Graham. So, I decided to go into the weekend with the hope of running not my fastest half marathon overall, but my fastest Grandma’s half ever. The time to beat was 1:39:05.

The day before was a whirlwind. My main focus was on getting everything together for Graham’s babysitter: prepped baby food, clothes washed, medical release complete, notifying neighbors, grocery shopping, etc. It got to be 10 AM and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything. Not good! I took down a plain bagel with some butter and sipped coffee and water with electrolytes throughout the remainder of the morning —- but looking back, I can see that while I had carbs at the forefront of my mind (which is good) I did not really think my nutrition plan through very well.

Once we finally got on the road, I took down two Ghetto Gastro toaster pastries (bougie pop tarts) that I’d picked up from Target. I ate some fruit and cinnamon graham crackers as well. For dinner, Collin had prepared incredible chicken and rice, which was basically a whole roasted organic chicken in creamy rice and bone broth, studded with green peas and Kerrygold. It was comforting and filling, and I went to bed full (for the time being), giddy, and ready to race. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fall asleep, and neither could Collin. I was thinking about Graham and if he had what he needed. I also think all the carbs and sugar also had me wired. Don’t get me wrong, I love carbs as much as the next runner, but I didn’t feel well eating pretty much exclusively bagels, crackers, fruit and toaster pastries. I had a vague carb # to hit in my head but I think I would have felt better including some more veggies and fats. Definitely have some more experimenting to do in this area.

Alarms went off at 3:30, but I was already awake. I don’t think I slept at all. Brutal! Immediately, I second-guessed my decision to run the race but the hustle was on to make the bus, so I had to shake it off and get moving.

I got my clothes on, bib pinned, downed two slices of sourdough toast with butter, honey and sea salt, and hopped into the truck (1/2 cup coffee in hand!). On the way to the buses, I pumped some milk, knowing I wouldn’t want to stop mid-race to do so. Unfortunately, I had to dump it as I knew it would be sitting out at least 6 hours by the time we got back to the truck. This was a new logistics thing I hadn’t had to plan for in previous races, contributing to the sense of overwhelm and apprehension I felt. To add to all this, I’m not sure what happened, but the bus didn’t arrive until just a few minutes before 6 AM. I was slated to start in corral 1, and I knew right off the bat I wouldn’t make it. We sat on the bus for at least 10 minutes before they let us get off, and at that point, I needed a bathroom fast. I heard the race start and, knowing I would not be able to run with the 1:40 pacer (as was my plan), immediately tried to recalibrate my approach to the race. By the time I used the bathroom, removed my throwaway layers and made it to the start line, it was 6:19 AM. Not the calm, focused start I’d banked on for this race.

As I suspected, I almost immediately encountered runners 12-13 min pace spread across the entire width of the road and had to say “excuse me!” seemingly every 3 seconds. I knew that if I weaved too much, I would end up running way further than 13.1 mile. I didn’t want to run ANY further than I had to, so I needed a different approach. I started scanning the runners directly in front of me for an opening, dashed through it, (“scuse me! So sorry!”), and then looked for the next one. This took a different kind of mental focus than what I had planned for, and I was mad about it. Pretty quickly, I realized that I’d need to let it go if I wanted to run a strong race. I made the conscious decision shift my focus onto the things I could control: staying relaxed, fueling on time, and beating 1:39:05.

My first 7 miles were faster than goal pace and I had trouble dialing things back because I was so frazzled. 7:20, 7:25, 7:31, 7:23, 7:26, 7:22, 7:26.

By mile 8, I felt my legs rapidly losing their pep. It occurred to me that I felt hungry and thirsty, which is obviously not good as it’s very difficult to make up those calories while running at a fast pace. While I had made sure to fuel every 25 minutes and got what seemed to me like a hearty breakfast, I realized that more than likely (as mentioned earlier) I hadn’t eaten enough the day before. I’d focused on eating carb-rich foods, but hadn’t thought enough about eating adequate calories or including foods for satiety. I also realized with horror that I’d only had a mouthful of water between waking and the start of the race — I’d been so focused on pumping making sure I had my post-race clothes all packed that I forgot to hydrate. I’d brought some Skratch in a bottle onto the course with me, but it felt like too little too late.

At this point, I began negotiating with myself about whether or not I should slow down or walk. While I didn’t yet feel horrible, anxiety began to seep into my thoughts in a way I hadn’t quite experienced in prior races. I’m not sure if it was because I am postpartum or because so much of my life has changed since I last race, but I truly had to hype myself up to not quit. I had thoughts like:

“wow, this was such a stupid idea!”

“this is very dangerous! You could die of cardiac arrest!”

“Your fastest days are behind you.”

“You’re not all that strong. You felt way better last time. You should have strength trained more.”

It was intense! Keeping pace felt less and less manageable.

Mile 9: 7:31

Mile 10: 7:30

Heading into mile 11, I felt absolutely so tired. I started thinking about the past year, and about all of the things that have made me tired. Baby. Limited sleep. Working full time while trying to be present with my child. Financial changes and stress around that. Extreme stress at work. Grad classes at night. Nursing, pumping, the list goes on. I thought of all the reasons I should stop.

My watched beeped again. Mile 11: 7:32.

I was digging deep at this point, but knew I was too close to throw in the towel and wondered why I was even giving myself the option. Since the race, I’ve thought about why I was so fixated on needing to quit. I think something about motherhood makes a person intimately acquainted with their capacity. Over the last year, I’ve often felt as though I have my nose pressed right up against my limit. And yet, parenthood trucks on. You can’t bow out when it gets hard. I think that’s why the option of stepping off-course during this race felt so enticing to me.

Mile 12: 7:35. This mile was the hardest one for me.

“I feel tired.” I’m not sure if I said it aloud or intentionally thought it, but I allowed myself to inhabit that reality. It helped me accept how I actually felt without being embarrassed about it. I said it a few more times before I realized that I had something else to add: “….and I’m still moving.”

I feel tired, and I’m still moving. Isn’t this kind of how humans go through life?

I took a left turn and headed up the overpass. The wind and rain picked up, and I was worried about slipping as I came down the other side. I tried to keep my cadence up while being careful to keep from falling. The twists and turns of a cluttered course annoyed me but I knew I was almost done.

Mile 13: 7:35. Fought for that one.

The last .1 was an eternity. Desperate to finish, I dug for one final gear and sloppily flung myself across the finish line around 6:30 pace.

Wow. I couldn’t have been more relieved to finish. I’d felt exposed and vulnerable over the whole distance - kind of like my life over the past year - and couldn’t wait for dry clothes and pizza. Ready for comfort.

I definitely have some takeaways about how I could better fuel, get more sleep, and strength train more appropriately, but Grandma’s 2024 was mental for me in ways that other races haven’t been. My experience on the course mirrored what life has felt for me since becoming a Mom. Vulnerable but determined. Cynical but hopeful. Tired but strong.

One of my friends said it best. “How many women do I know who are so TIRED and so strong. Like, who needs this whole idea of strength being constant energy? Women are tired and strong.”

Agree. This race was a bird’s eye view of that reality. It was as though I was watching myself run from afar, observing the struggle and the strength all wrapped up together. I love how running gives a fresh perspective on how you are moving through your life.

The best part of the weekend, though, was watching 3 clients achieve PRs, my hot shower (uninterrupted), and coming home to Graham.

First Family Run