Run Rogers Run

“I made it.”

That’s a statement echoing through Fargo-Moorhead today, as the more than 8,000 participants of Fargo’s marathon, half-marathon, relay and 5K reflect on their accomplishments during Saturday’s races.

Over the past 18 weeks it has been my assignment to give a voice to what it’s like to train for a first marathon.

I’ve chronicled my turn from recovering couch potato to slower-than-average marathoner in monthly columns and occasional blogs.

Through training ups and downs, I found my way to the Fargo Marathon’s starting line, and eventually to the finish line.

While every first-time marathoner’s story is uniquely personal, I’ve done my best to capture what my first 26.2 mile trek encompassed.

Here’s a look at what the Fargo Marathon course brought my way:

Starting line

I meet fellow marathoners from the Red River Runners training class at the Fargodome at 7 a.m. and nervously await the starting gun.  I look around and comment that if America has an obesity problem, you wouldn’t know it by milling about the Fargodome on marathon day. The dome is overflowing with energy and fit people.

Mile 5

I discover the closest thing Fargo has to the Boston Marathon’s Wellesley scream is on 8th St. S.

A chute of people hold signs, shout encouragement, and blast music, fueling our energy as we get into the grove of the race. F-M Acro team members flip on a trampoline giving us an awesome show as we run down the street.

Mile 10

I am shocked that 10 miles have flown by and I feel so good. I think about how five months ago, I couldn’t run three miles without walking. I realize I’ve come far, but that I’ve still got to tough it through 16.2 more miles to find out if I’ll make my goal of finishing.

Mile 12

We run by a guy with a kazoo and a “Go Pre!” sign in a south Fargo neighborhood. “I promise the entertainment gets better ahead!” he yells at us. We high-five a line of Fargo North students –one of several high school groups on the course who helped cheer on runners throughout the day.  I run by belly dancers and am momentarily distracted from the race by wondering how they move their hips like that.

Mile 15

A group of spectators by Prairie St. John’s Hospital and the downtown YMCA hums the "Chariots of Fire" theme song as we run by. I am highly amused.

Mile 17

After crossing over to Moorhead, I feel stronger as  I run on my hometown turf. I see my mom, cousin, aunt, boyfriend and several members of my church at a marathon party near Concordia College. Moving through the campus, I’m grateful for all the students who came out to cheer us on.

Mile 19

I catch up to the 4:30 pace group, which is my goal time for finishing the marathon.

The group is led by a woman named Kathryn, who has run more than 80 marathons. I marvel at how Kathryn can a) run 26.2 miles while holding up a cumbersome sign alerting runners that she is the race leader and b) is able to easily chatter on and give encouragement to our pace group despite having just passed the 19 mile mark.

  One of my training buddies, Jen, comments that we only have a little more than an hour to go. I think more than an hour sounds like a long way to run at this point.

Mile 22

I discover what people mean when they say they’ve “hit the wall”. My legs feel like they’ve been put through a meat grinder. My shoulders have tensed up and my breathing is labored. I run into another relative at a water station. She encouragingly points out that “I’m almost there.” I whine that four miles isn’t “almost there”, but thank her for the water just the same. I contemplate asking spectators sitting on a futon to move over so I can take a brief nap. I realize a nap will put me over the five-hour finishing mark. I keep on going, but lose the 4:30 pace group and three training buddies from class.

Mile 22.5

 I mentally breakdown and feel ill from some unfortunate tasting energy gel. I take a walking break, with hopes of feeling better.

Mile 23

I start to contemplate whether it would be so bad to drop out of the race. I think about what I would write in my Sunday column for the Forum if that happened. I decide a headline of “Hey, I got tired and quit the race” probably wouldn’t draw in many readers. Plus, training for five months to stop three miles from the finish line seems silly.

  I ponder whether the “quitters never win” mentality is overrated, but I keep on going anyway.

Mile 24.5

There are not many runners around me at this point; a good portion of the marathon field has already finished. As I run down the street alone, an elderly woman walks down to the edge of her yard to encourage me. I try my best to give her a smile. “Is this your first marathon?” she asks. I nod.

“Oh, you’re my hero,” she said.

There was something about the way she said it that made me cry.

I cried because I was tired, because everything hurt, because I felt guilty for wanting to be quit and because to this woman, it didn’t matter that I wouldn’t make my goal time.

What mattered to her was that I had gotten out on the course to attempt a marathon. She’ll probably never know what her simple statement did for me as I struggled through my final miles.

I allowed myself one block to cry and then told myself to snap out of my pity party.

Mile 25.7

I spot my boyfriend standing on the corner of the Fargodome and joke that if the marathon were 22 miles, I’d have had an amazing race. I realize it’s good that I’m now laughing about the marathon instead of crying. Being so close to the finish line has reinvigorated me.

Finish line

I cross the line in 4:37:16 –  a 10:35 a minute per mile pace and slower than my goal time. I swear to myself I will never run a marathon again.

 Ten minutes later, I begin dissecting the race with training partners to talk about how I will cut down my time next year.

I know I will be back.

When you’ve been marathon training for 17 weeks, it’s easy to become a head case a week before the race.

What if I slip and break my ankle wearing the trendy summer wedge sandals I’ve just bought? What if the bagged salad I purchase for dinner is infested with E coli and keeps me from the starting line?

Suddenly, everything becomes a reason for why I might not finish the marathon.

And I am GOING to finish that marathon. I’ve sacrificed Friday nights out in exchange to run 18 miles on Saturday mornings.

I’ve spent my money on Gu Energy gels and shirts that properly wick instead of Leinie’s at Lauerman’s and work clothes from Macy’s.

I’ve studied split charts, for Pete’s sake.

You might say I’m overanalyzing the race these days — a frenzied state of mind that is the result of a mix of excitement and nerves.

The other day I got dressed for work and actually contemplated wearing running shoes. My logic was that I wouldn’t roll an ankle in heels with trusty running gear fastened to my feet at all times up until the race.

Then I looked in the mirror and realized there’s a reason The Forum’s dress code doesn’t say “pants, blouse and Asics.”

At that point, I realized I need to relax.

I’m pretty much kicked my insecurities of whether I can run 26.2 miles at the Fargo Marathon on Saturday.

I know I can run at least 22 and I bet I can crawl 4.2 if I have to.

At this point, there’s nothing that’s going to keep me from the starting line –except for an unforeseen injury or illness.

No amount of mileage will increase or decrease my chances of meeting my goal of keeping a 10:20 pace for 26.2 miles (I’m not exactly aiming to qualify for Boston here, folks).

But it’s the lingering mental game and some fear about the big day ahead. Even though I’ve spent every Saturday morning running for hours, it doesn’t feel like I’ve been training that long.

I’ve put in my miles,  done pretty well about the nutrition aspect of training and am being vigilant to take the proper steps to rest and prepare for the race this week.

Still, I find myself saying, “Holy crap, I actually have to do this on Saturday.”

That battle probably won’t let up as I face the fear of the unknown leading up to the Big Day.

Fargo Marathon Race Director Mark Knutson offered some good advice to those of us in the Red River Runners training class who met at the Fargodome on Saturday to finish our final group “long run” before the race.

“You’ve earned a spot at the starting line,” he said, noting that Fargo runners have seen it all over the past 5 months of training.

Snow, ice, floods, 80 degree temperatures. Marathon participants from California don’t have to deal with that, he pointed out.

A good point to keep in mind as I battle my nerves for the rest of the week.

It’s downhill from here until the Fargo Marathon.

On Saturday, I completed my longest run to date –a 22 miler, where I learned what it feels like to hit the proverbial wall at mile 19 and how to power through wanting to quit to make it just a few more miles.

The run went well and making it shy of the full 26.2 I’ll run in a couple weeks provided a huge mental boost.

It’s a bit nerve-wracking to contemplate how I’ll feel on the last 4.2 miles on marathon day, since I was tired after 22 miles. Then again, when you’ve been running for nearly four hours, what’s sucking it up for another 40 minutes to run four more miles?

Runners will be tapering over the next few weeks in preparation for the race. It makes me laugh to say that a “taper” for long runs over the next two weeks are 16-and 12-mile runs, respectively.

I can honestly say those distances aren’t daunting anymore. I can make them, and be walking around in the afternoon, not nearly as drained as when I first approached those distances two months ago.

I’ve skipped blogging quite a bit in these recent weeks, partly because I’ve been busy with other assignments, but mostly because I’m not completely blown away that I manage to survive long runs.

It’s become part of my daily routine: eat breakfast, go to work, run 6,8,16 or 20 miles. It’s rewarding that I’ve been able to incorporate this into part of my life, and no longer dissect the experience of training for a marathon into something separate and something temporary.

I hope to keep up the running routine I’ve gotten into well after crossing the finish line on May 19.

During my plane ride home from the Boston Marathon the other week, I chatted with a runner from Chicago about marathoning. After talking about various races he’d completed, I asked him what his favorite part of marathoning is.

Without hesitation he said the best part of running at various marathons is meeting first-time marathoners.

The first time novice marathoners make it through 10 or 20 mile runs, it’s exhilarating. To see them finally finish the race is amazing, he said. Capturing that excitement from first-timers is a reminder of what it felt like the first time this man had the same experiences.

I could relate to what he was saying. I’ve felt so awed as I’ve made it through the various stages of this challenge, and now to be so close to finishing my goal … exciting isn’t exactly the right adjective to describe it.

I can’t wait to feed off the energy of other first-time runners come marathon day.

Some links on tapering:

www.marathontraining.com/marathon/m_taper.html

http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-238-244–10201-0,00.html

Another note about my upcoming trip to the Boston Marathon for anyone out there who is interested … The Forum is allowing me a shot at sports reporting since I’ll be out in Boston watching my family compete amid taking a vacation out east.

I’ll be writing a story about how the 28 North Dakotans and handful of athletes from northwestern Minnesota fare at the world’s oldest annually contested marathon in Boston. For those out there unfamiliar with the running world, this is pretty much the Super Bowl of marathons.

So, keep an eye on The Forum’s sports section if you’re wondering how your local running buddies fared at Boston!

My brother Chris is a running freak.

He is O.K. with me saying that. It’s nicer than just calling him a freak or “Skeletor” –a nickname derived from the old He-Man cartoon I’ve used to poke fun of his long distance running legs and 5’ 10” frame (that hasn’t ballooned much past 130 pounds since he was in high school).

To say running is a huge part of my brother’s life is an understatement.

In scheduling a honeymoon last year, he tried to convince his wife Nicolle that he could squeeze a marathon into the trip.

When he and Nicolle announced that they’re expecting their first child in August, analyzing what type of running stroller needed to be purchased crossed my brother’s mind well before a crib was ever bought.

Two Christmases ago, Nicolle and I were baffled when my brother reacted like a kid in a candy store after opening a present called “The Stick.” It was a white, baton-looking thing that is apparently used to rub over sore muscles after long runs.

To Nicolle and I, it looked like something for swatting at items lost behind the couch.  We had to laugh as my brother waved that marathon stick around like a 6-year-old pumped over a new toy fire truck from Santa Claus.

Who knew there’s no better present than something to relieve lactic acid buildup?

Although I pretend to give the guy a hard time about his serious (albeit occasionally obsessive) running routine, my family and I are impressed with his dedication.

Yes, my sister-in-law jokes that there needs to be a support group formed for spouses of crazed marathon runners.

But it’s pretty hard to tease someone who averages a 6:16/mile over 26.2 miles. It’s safe to say Chris can kick my butt.

He looks like one of those guys in Runner’s World and could pass for one of those front-of-the-pack guys on ESPN, when elite races are televised.

That’s because he usually is one of those front-of-the-pack guys. 

A cross country and track athlete at Moorhead High, my brother went on to run at the University of Minnesota for a couple of years before switching over to be a graduate assistant coach with the program.

Competing took a hiatus while he went to law school. But after moving to the work world, the marathon bug hit.

His marathon bug might have been derived from working as an intern at the U.S. Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista, Calif. During a gig there, Chris met Meb Keflezighi, who went on to win a silver medal in the marathon at the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens.

Chris would chat with Meb every now and then as the two crossed paths at the training center. Needless to say, there was plenty of inspiration to be found in watching someone like Meb run everyday. I’m not sure if they are still in touch, but I know meeting someone like Meb was a thrill.

So far Chris has finished four marathons: The Rock n’ Roll marathon in San Diego, the Twin Cities Marathon, the Chicago Marathon and the Salt Lake City Marathon.

This weekend I’m headed out to watch him compete at his fifth – the Boston Marathon, which is arguably one of the nation’s most prestigious long distance races. He’ll be heading to Massachusetts from Utah, where he works at as the University of Utah’s NCAA compliance director and trains amid a backdrop of some of the most beautiful mountains you’ve ever seen.

He qualified for Boston running a 2:44:09 at Salt Lake City. At 29, that easily put him under the qualifying standard of 3:10 for his age group.

His goal is to “stay as close to 6 minute/mile pace as possible.” Doing that would put him at a finish time of 2:37:12.

As you can imagine, living with Mr. Chariots of Fire (the long distance version) over the years brought with it moments of intimidation.

It’s hard to say you’re a runner when you’ve got a brother who can run a full marathon in the the time it takes you to run half that distance.

But I’ve moved into this long distance running thing knowing that the words “ my goal is to stay as close to a 6 minute/mile” are likely never going to come out of my mouth. And he’s encouraging about the fact that I finished a 20-miler holding 10:20ish pace just last week.

After I decided to take the marathon plunge, I couldn’t resist a Q&A with my brother to get his take on my decision.

Here’s what he had to say:

Q: What’s your reaction to hearing that me –your couch potato prone sister –plans to embark on her first marathon?

A: A little shocked at first. I thought you might try a half-marathon, but didn’t really think you would have the ambition to jump up to a full marathon distance. The column aspect will make it interesting because you can’t back out –everybody in the region will be reading about it so you’ve got to put in the training! Can you do it? No question. Anybody can do a marathon if they have the discipline to prepare themselves accordingly.

Q: What advice do you have for me –and people like me –who’ve never run a marathon before?

A: Two pieces of advice for people who have never run a marathon before.

The first is be prepared. I can speak from experience that there is nothing worse than running a marathon and not being fully prepared for what is in front of you. If you haven’t done the necessary training (that includes doing enough long runs) it’s going to be tough and painful the last 10 K –even more tough and painful than you imagined it would be.

Case in point: my first marathon I went out on 6-minute/6:05 pace and was feeling good so I cranked it down to 5:30 pace on a downhill section.

That seemed to work fine until mile 19 or 20, when I gave back everything I had gained and then some by the time I finished.

The second piece of advice is to have a plan and run within yourself. If your plan is to run one mile, walk one minute, run another mile and then walk a minute … do it.

If your plan is to run 10 minute miles, run 10 minute miles.

Don’t start running 9:30 pace just because you feel good at mile 5 –you’ll pay the price later.

Doing a few training runs per week, even with long runs, is a far cry from running 26.2 miles all at once.

As long as you have some idea of what you’re going to do when you get out on the marathon course and you stick to the plan for at least 20 miles you’ll be able to get through the whole thing. *

There you have it, blog readers. Advice from one of the speediest marathoners I know.

Good luck in Boston, Chris! I’ll try to pick you out of the 22,500 runners.

Red River Runners group members (L to R) Heidi, Leah, Kari, Jenn and Melinda finish a 20 mile run at Oxbow the day before Easter in 13 degree weather.

I’m starting to believe I just might finish this Fargo Marathon.

Sure, I’ve said I’m going to make it through from the very beginning. I need to say that — in order to write this column for starters.

But to actually believe I’ll run all 26.2 miles is another thing. And I can honestly say, a la Mary Tyler Moore, that I’m going to make it after all.

This Saturday I made it through a very windy, very cold 20-miler.

Along with four other women, I set out down the long stretch of barren road on Old Highway 81 that connects Fargo to the Oxbow subdivision.

We started out at the Fargodome and the plan was to head back into the wind after 10 miles to make a loop along the marathon route.

After we’d wound our way through Fargo’s streets to reach Courts Plus on University Avenue, we decided to run with the wind out to Oxbow.

I would have assumed that by the day before Easter I’d have ditched my cold weather gear. Yet there I was, with the four small bottles of Gatorade attached to my fuel belt (a fanny pack looking thing to carry water with on long runs) frozen solid.  Thirteen degree weather in April will do that.

But despite patches of ice and moments of cursing winter weather in April, we made it through 20 miles.

Parts of the run were not easy. Climbing the three flights of stairs to my third floor apartment the day after the run was also not easy.

 But through the sting of sore quads on Easter Sunday came a sense of satisfaction in knowing that I’m closer to finishing the marathon.

Sure, finishing 16 the other week got me closer. But in finishing 16 there was still 10.2 miles to go.

In finishing 20 miles, there are only six miles to go.  I can crawl six miles to the finish line if I have to.

We finished the run in 3:26 minutes, which averages out to about a 10:21/mile pace.

There were a few walking breaks stuck in, but for the most part we tucked our heads into the biting wind and made it to Oxbow in a more than fair clip for a cold weather run.

The experience served as motivation to stay committed during the final weeks of training as the countdown to race day ticks.

An addendum to yesterday’s post on running without iPods…

Here’s Fargo Marathon director Mark Knutson’s take on the issue, as found in Forum reporter Kevin Schnepf’s article today:

http://www.in-forum.com/articles/index.cfm?id=161796

Here’s The Star Tribune’s story on the same issue:

http://www.startribune.com/503/story/1100668.html

“Are you kidding me?”

I’m sure that thought went through the minds of every Fargo-Moorhead resident when throwing open curtains to find the winter wonderland this town wasn’t graced with in December.

It’s April 3.

This weekend should be filled with blooming flowers and kids snaring Easter eggs from budding grass. Instead, we’ve got the makings for another round at the Dike West’s sledding hill.

Fargo-Moorhead recorded about 3 inches of snow today while Fergus Falls, Minn., and Park Rapids, Minn., each received 5 inches, according to reports on www.in-forum.com.

And I was whining over the weekend about having to run through a slight drizzle.

Needless to say, I’m reassessing my definition of crummy training weather right about now.

Yes, Fargo-Moorhead has had more than it’s share of spring snowstorms. But I’m starting to wonder if the jokes about getting snowed on in the Fargo Marathon in May are all that off base.

Seeing the piles of white stuff today is a little deflating for two reasons:

a)        I packed away my tracks for the season and thought I was done with slipping and sliding through long runs.

b)        I’ve more than put in my time fighting the treadmill police and now may have to arm wrestle for that extra 10 minutes to get in my miles at the Y again.

To sum up my feelings on this: Shoot.

If there’s a positive spin to put on any of this, let’s just say most in the RRR training class will be ready for whatever weather hits us on May 19.

But I think we’d all be happy to run 26.2  (and 20 this Saturday for that matter) without a blizzard.