Race Report: 2018 Mankato Marathon

On October 21st, I ran the Mankato Marathon.  This was a last-minute addition to my race schedule.  Until last weekend, it didn’t even occur to me that there was a local race this weekend.  While I was in Bemidji for the Blue Ox Marathon, my friend Andy from Texas mentioned in a Facebook post that he was doing this race.

Last weekend, I felt nervous about running marathons on two consecutive weekends, because I hadn’t done it in more than a year.  Afterwards, I felt pretty good about it.  One of my goals for this year was to cut back on marathons, but that’s mainly so I could cut back on the travel.  Mankato is close enough that I could drive down there the morning of the race.

Like mostly people, I used to do long training runs at least every other weekend.  Eight years ago, I joined Marathon Maniacs and started running marathons every week or two.  When you race that often, the marathons take the place of your long training runs.

In the past year, I cut back to not much more than one marathon per month, but I still wasn’t doing any long training runs.  From January through June, I was walking 15 to 20 miles per day, but it was usually split into three workouts.  When you’re doing that many miles per day, it doesn’t matter if it’s only seven miles at a time.  I had good race results even without the long training runs.

More recently, my mileage has dropped off, and I’m feeling the difference.  Suddenly a 10 mile workout feels really long.  I realized I either need to resume doing long workouts, or I need to race more often.  Since I could do this race while still sleeping at home, it was hard to resist doing it as a long training run.

It was still possible to register for the race, but the logistics were less than convenient.  It’s a point to point race.  They provide transportation to the start before the race, but not back to the finish after the race.  That meant I had to get to downtown Mankato early enough to find parking and then take a bus to the start.  That meant leaving home by 4:30 and doing the 70 mile drive in the dark.  It also meant driving home after the race in my sweaty running clothes.

When I looked at the weather forecast, I started to have second thoughts.  The overnight low was going to be 27 degrees, and I would have to wait in the start area for at least an hour before the race started.  How badly did I want to do a long training run?  Was it worth getting up at 3:30 and then freezing for an hour before the race?  It was going to be much warmer in the afternoon.  I could just do a training run on my own, but I knew I wouldn’t hang in there for 20+ miles.  I’d be lucky if I could talk myself into doing 10.

When I pin a race bib to my shirt, I can coax myself to run farther, and I can coax myself to run faster.  I’ll also grit my teeth and tolerate uncomfortable weather.  When I’m just out for a training run, it’s harder to do that.  On training runs, I want to stay in my comfort zone.

I considered getting a room for the night.  I’ve done this race twice before.  On both of those occasions, I started at a Hilton Garden Inn that’s near the finish line and only a few blocks from where buses load.  If I booked at the AARP rate, I could get a 2 PM checkout.  That would give me a chance to shower before driving home.  They still had rooms available, but the rate was outrageous.  It was $348.  To put that in perspective, the rate for that room on any other night would be $116.  They tripled the rate for the night before the race.  For that kind of money, you can stay at a four star hotel in midtown Manhattan.

There’s only one other hotel in downtown Mankato.  They had availability and a reasonable room rate, but I wouldn’t have been able to get a late checkout there.  If I had to check out before leaving to catch a bus, I wouldn’t save much time in the morning, and I still wouldn’t be able to shower afterwards.  I would defeat the purpose of getting a hotel room.

By now, I was emotionally invested in doing the race, so I went ahead and signed up for it.  I decided to get up early and drive to Mankato the morning of the race.  The forecast wasn’t as bad as it looked at first.  While it would dip into the upper 20s overnight, it would warm to about 30 by the time the race started.  It was going to be a sunny day, so the temperature would climb quickly once the sun was up.

They have race morning packet pickup, but I drove down to Mankato to pick up my race packet on Saturday.  It took a few hours of my afternoon, but it made race morning much simpler.  I didn’t have to get to the start area as early.  I also didn’t have to pin on a race bib or attach a chip to my shoe at the last minute.

Packet pickup was at the Mankato campus of Minnesota State University.  While I was there, I bumped into Dick Beardsley and we had a nice chat.  He was one of my running idols when I first started running, and I’ve heard him speak at a few different races.

I got to bed early and slept well for about four hours.  Then I woke up and had trouble getting back to sleep.  I eventually rolled over and looked at the clock.  It was 4:08.  I though my alarm was set for 3:30.  I accidentally set it for 3:30 PM instead of 3:30 AM.  I got ready as quickly as I could.  My brain was now wide awake, but my body was still sleepy.  I had a cup of tea and a small bowl of cereal and got dressed as quickly as I could.

I still managed to get to Mankato by 6:00.  I parked in the ramp by Hilton Garden Inn.  Normally, it’s only for free for hotel guests, but on Sunday, it’s free for anyone.  By now, I needed to pee.  I found a bathroom I could use inside the building and then walked over to Cherry Street to board a bus to the start.

When we were dropped off at the starting line, it was freezing.  The wind was really howling.  I walked straight to a Caribou Coffee that’s right across the street.  I ordered a cup of hot cocoa and sat down inside.  At first, I just held the cup in my hands, to warm them up.  Then I took an occasional sip.  I wasn’t in any rush.  I had more than an hour to kill, and I wasn’t in any rush to go back outside.  Before I felt, I had to pee again.  That’s fine.  They had bathrooms, and there weren’t too many people waiting.

There was a 10K race that started at 7:30, but the marathon and half marathon didn’t start until 8:00.  At 7:45, I started walking over to the starting line.  As soon as I crossed the street, I felt rumbling from my digestive system.  I realized I needed to take a dump before the race.  Why couldn’t I figure that out while I was still in the coffee shop?

The race had an adequate number of port-o-potties.  The lines weren’t too long, and they were moving quickly.  I got in line just 12 minutes before the race.  A few minutes later, I was able to do my business.  Then I had to hurry to line up for the start of the race.  I wanted to look for Andy, but I didn’t have time.

I always look for the pace groups to figure out where I should line up.  Ideally, I wanted to line up between the 4:00 and 4:15 groups.  At this point, I couldn’t get that far forward.  I had to settle for lining up within sight of the 4:15 group.  After the race started, there was more room.  I gradually moved past the 4:15 group and kept moving through the field until I was right behind the 4:00 group.  Their pace felt easy at first.  Then we rounded a corner and turned onto County Road 8.  Now we were going straight into the wind.  Suddenly, the pace didn’t feel quite as easy, but I stayed behind the group.

It was 30 degrees, but the wind made it feel like 20.  To cope with the cold, I dressed in layers.  I realized I might be too warm later in the race, but I would worry about that later.

I was wearing both gloves and mittens on my hands.  After about two miles, we reached an aid station.  I decided to skip it.  Handling a cup with mittens might be awkward.  Besides, I really didn’t want to stop or slow down until I got out of that cold headwind.

Because I didn’t stop to drink, I accidentally got ahead of the 4:00 pace group.  Just before the three mile mark, we reached the point where marathoners turn left and half marathoners turn right.  Now we had a cross wind, and I was more comfortable.  I eased up, so the 4:00 group would gradually catch up to me.  I must not have eased up enough.  I never saw them again.

The marathon route starts on a plateau.  The first half is basically a big loop with no net elevation change.  The second half includes a long gradual descent into the Minnesota River valley before finishing downtown.  While the first half doesn’t have any net elevation change, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have hills.  There’s a hilly section that starts at about five miles.  There are two big hills and a few smaller ones.  The hills aren’t as tiring as the wind.  My biggest worry about the hills is that I might start to overheat if I was working too hard.  I was dressed pretty warm.

Before I got to the hills, I took off my mittens and put them in my fanny pack.  I didn’t need them now that I was no longer running into the wind.  I also partially unzipped my Tyvek jacket.

After the first big hill, we turned left again.  Now the wind was at my back.  On my head, I was wearing a warm hat, and I was also wearing a neoprene headband that covered my ears.  I needed the headband for the first few miles, but now it was too much.  I took it off and stuffed it into my fanny pack with my mittens.

I unzipped my jacket almost all the way.  I considered unzipping it completely, but I might want to zip it up again when we ran into the wind again.

I was feeling perspiration on my arms and torso.  My base layer was a warm polypropylene shirt.  Ordinarily that’s all I would need for a cold day.  I also wore a singlet, so I could pin my race bib to it.  The jacket was too much.

As I approached the next hill, I realized I would get too hot running uphill with the jacket.  I took it off and tied it around my waist.

Another runner started talking to me, and we ran together for the next several miles.  His name was Joel.  His goal was to break four hours.  I questioned whether I should be trying to run that fast, but I enjoyed our conversation, so I matched his pace, even though it felt fast at times.

At the halfway mark, I looked at my watch for the first time.  I ran the first half in 1:58:02.  I was on pace to break four hours, but I questioned whether my current pace was sustainable.  We were now running into the wind again, and I knew we’d have to fight the headwind for another three miles.  It was much stronger now, and running into it was tiring.

At this point in last week’s race, I set twin goals of breaking four hours and running negative splits.  This time, I wanted to break four hours again, but I wasn’t as concerned about running negative splits.  It didn’t seem like a realistic goal.

On paper, this course sets up well for negative splits.  There’s a long downhill section in the second half.  Before I could get there, however, I had to get through the next three miles without the wind wearing me down.  I was also worried I would overheat in the late miles.  I couldn’t really shed any more layers, and I was dressed awfully warm.

In colder races, I usually wear tights.  Today, I was wearing some tight-fitting sweatpants that are much warmer.  I’ve worn them in training runs, but never for more than about 10 miles.  I didn’t know if I would overheat.  Running into the wind, I was cold, but it was supposed to warm into the 40s in the second half of the race.  It was also a sunny day.

Joel and I were both concerned about the wind.  We just wanted to survive the next few miles without wearing ourselves out.

At one of the aid stations, I got a little bit ahead of Joel.  Then I saw where we were going to make the right turn that would get us out of the wind.  I was excited to be done running into the wind, and without really trying, I sped up a bit.  I left Joel behind and passed three other runners.

When I turned the corner at 16 miles, it felt easier … at first.  It was no longer a headwind, but it was still strong.  The road I was on was surrounded by flat farmland.  There was nothing to stop the wind.  As it blew across the road, it was pushing me sideways.  I had to avoid running too close to the edge of the road, so I wouldn’t be blown into the grass.

The next mile was level.  At 17 miles, the road started bending to the right, and it also started sloping downwards.  I was beginning the gradual descent toward the river valley.  The next few miles were not only downhill, but we were gradually turning away from the wind.  I picked up my pace.

At about 18 miles, we had left the road for a paved path that curved in and out of the woods.  We had a tailwind, but it was mostly blocked by the trees.  Without the wind, I felt hot.  The grade wasn’t uniform, but it was mostly downhill.  I tried to maintain the best pace I could without wearing myself out.

Often during races, I compare how I feel to how I felt at the same point in a different race.  I walked this race last year, and faded badly in the late miles.  At 19 miles, I realized this was where the wheels came off last year.  I felt much better this year, but it was a reminder that there were still several miles to go.  I had to be careful not to overdo it.

Occasionally, we came out of the woods, and I could feel the wind at my back.  Those were the only times I didn’t feel hot.

At 22 miles, I left the woods for good and recognized a few downtown buildings.  As the crow flies, I was less than a mile from the finish, but first I had to cross under a highway and do a loop through the western edge of the city.  For a block or two, there were runners coming the other way.  They were already done with this loop.  They didn’t seem to be going any faster than the runners going in my direction.  Then I realized we were going slightly downhill and they were going slightly uphill.  I remembered that for later.

After crossing under the highway, I saw a row of colorful signs.  I don’t know if they were put there by race volunteers or spectators.  They had different slogans.  One said “Just Run.”  That one stuck in my head.

I felt more wind now.  It wasn’t a direct headwind, but it was still tiring.  I focused on the positive and reminded myself that the wind was the only thing keeping me from overheating.  At this point in the race, wind was my friend.

At 23 miles, I wondered if I should look at my watch.  I hadn’t looked at it since the halfway point.  I didn’t know what pace I was running, nor did I know what pace I needed to run the rest of the way to break four hours.  I was just running by feel and trying to estimate how hard I could work without running out of gas. Should I look at my watch?  If I knew I was on pace to break four hours, would that motivate me to keep pushing?  If it looked like I had fallen off the pace, would that cause me to lose motivation?  Was it better to not know?  Maybe the sign was right.  Just run.

I felt a slight sense of relief when I reached the westernmost part of the loop.  Now I was running back toward downtown and the finish.

At 24 miles, I was starting up a small hill that would take me up to the top of a levee overlooking the river.  I just ran.

Finally, at 25 miles I decided to look at my watch.  Now I wanted to know what it would take to reach my goals.  My time for 25 miles was 3:45.  I would easily break four hours.  What about negative splits.  It was possible, but it was going to be close.  I couldn’t slow down at all in the last 1.2 miles.

After a few short ups and downs, I got back to that section with two-way traffic.  In addition to being uphill, it was also into the wind.  Just Run.

Since 16 miles, I had been steadily passing other runners.  Only one had passed me.  I passed a few runners in this section, but it took more effort.  I skipped the last aid station, turned left at Burger King, and headed into downtown Mankato.  I ran as hard as I could.

At the last turn, there was a small hill.  Just as I was getting there, I heard someone say, “Just a quarter mile to go.”  As I rounded the turn, I looked for the finish line.  I didn’t see it yet, but I saw the 26 mile banner.  As I got there, I checked my watch.  It read, “3:54:03.”  If I ran the last two tenths in two minutes, I’d have negative splits.  I knew I was going faster than that.

I heard a familiar voice call my name.  It was Andy.  When I didn’t see him before the race, I assumed I wouldn’t see him before the finish.  I didn’t see him, because I was looking at my watch.  I said hello, but kept running as hard as I could until I finished.  My time was 3:55:42.

After crossing the line, I turned around and waited for Andy.  We got our finisher medals, and Andy retrieved his gear bag.  We didn’t see the tent with the finisher shirts.  After walking around a bit, we eventually found it.  It was right next to the finish line.

The finisher medal has a cool design.  The center is a spinner.

My race bib had a coupon for a free beer.  I went to a pub next to the finish line where I could redeem my beer coupon, and while I was there, I had lunch.  The owner came over to talk to me.  He saw I was a marathon finisher and congratulated me.  Then he asked me how many marathons I’ve run.  When I said, “360,” he was more than a little surprised.  He offered me a free dessert, but I had to decline.  It was all I could do to finish my entrée.

I broke four hours for the third straight weekend.  I also ran negative splits.  My second half was 22 seconds faster than my first half.  That’s not bad for a training run.  Negative splits has been an elusive goal for me.  I almost always start too fast.

I’m beginning to think I should wear race bibs for all my training runs.  Do you think it would help?

Race Statistics

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  3:55:42

Average Pace:  8:59 

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  360

Minnesota Marathons/Ultras:  49

Race Report: 2018 Blue Ox Marathon

On October 13th, I ran the Blue Ox Marathon in Bemidji, MN.  This is a Minnesota marathon that I had never done before.  I’ve had trouble fitting this one into my schedule, because there are so many good October marathons.

Bemidji is in northern Minnesota, which is a heavily forested region.  Today, it’s mostly a lake resort area, but when this area was settled, logging was one of the main industries.  Lumberjacks here, and in other logging states, told tall tales of a giant lumberjack named Paul Bunyan.  My dad told me several of these stories when I was growing up.  One was about the time during the “winter of the blue snow” when Paul Bunyan found an ox in the snow he named Babe.  Babe was stained blue by the snow.

Bemidji is one of at least 10 cities that claim to be the birthplace of Paul Bunyan, ranging from Minnesota to Maine.  In 1937, the city held a winter carnival, and they erected statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the blue ox as mascots of the carnival.  These statues remain icons of the city, having been renovated in 2006.

I drove to Bemidji on Friday.  It was a four hour drive.  The roads were in good condition, but as I got closer to Bemidji, I started to notice snow on the grass.  That was a reminder that winter is coming, and the farther north you go, the earlier it arrives.

I stayed at the Hampton Inn, which is located right on Lake Bemidji.  Appropriately, it’s on Paul Bunyan Drive.

After checking in and unpacking, I went to the Sanford Center to pick up my race packet.  I was surprised to see such a large convention center in a city of only 15,000.  The expo was small, but there were a few vendors with running gear.  One had shoes of particular interest to local runners.  They had spikes for running on snow and ice.

At the expo, I got to see the awards.  If you’re fast enough, you could go home with a nice ax.  The age group awards were cowbells.

I did this race just six days after the Chicago Marathon.  Racing on back-to-back weekends is something I used to do all the time, but this was the first time in more than a year.  When I decided to run the Chicago Marathon, I assumed I would walk this one, to spare my body from the impact of running two marathons in seven days.  Then I saw the weather forecast.  The temperature was in the 30s, with a forecast of “spotty showers.”

In conditions like these, I wanted to get done as quickly as possible.  I had a cold, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to run very fast, but even a half-hearted running effort would be faster than my best walking pace.  I also generate more heat running, which gave me a better chance of keeping warm.

I had dinner at Green Mill.  The restaurant was connected to the hotel, so I could walk over there without having to go outside.  I also got a five dollar discount.

I often stay at hotels with free breakfast, but miss the breakfast on race morning, because I have to leave before breakfast starts.  That wasn’t the case this weekend.  The race didn’t start until 9:00, and Hampton Inn started their breakfast service at 6:00.  I got downstairs early and ate a light breakfast before returning to my room to start getting ready for the race.

The race started and finished less than a mile from the hotel, but I still drove over there, so I could have my car parked nearby.  That can make a difference if it’s cold and rainy.  It was drizzly when I got up, but the rain stopped before I drove to the start.  I dressed in layers for cold, windy conditions, and I had a rain poncho folded up inside my fanny pack, in case the rain came back.

The marathon was limited to 150 runners, but there were also several shorter distances, including 5K, 10K, half marathon, and 26K.  The 26K race is called “Loop the Lake,” because the course is one loop around Lake Bemidji.  The marathon route also included a loop around Lake Bemidji, but first we had to do about nine miles on streets and paved trails near the southwest corner of the lake.

The marathon and 26K race started together, but separated within the first mile.  To make sure I didn’t make a wrong turn, I followed the 4:15 pacer.  I didn’t actually care too much what my starting pace was, but I wanted to follow someone who was running the marathon and knew the route.

There was a dark cloud above us, and it made me nervous.  A few minutes before the race started, Ifelt drops.  We had a wet start, but I could see blue sky to the west, so I crossed my fingers that the rain would stop soon.

I stayed behind the 4:15 pacer until we were past the split.  The pace felt casual.  It felt so easy, that I decided to go ahead on my own once I was confident I couldn’t make a wrong turn.

By the end of the first mile, the rain had stopped.  Unfortunately, my clothes were now wet.  I wasn’t feeling the wind yet, but I worried about it.

We were on the Paul Bunyan Trail, which is a paved bike path that goes around the south side of Lake Bemidji.  Before the end of the second mile, we left the trail to run on streets through downtown Bemidji.  By now, I was catching up to the 4:00 pace group.  The pace still felt relaxed.

The sun came out, and I started to feel hot.  I was dressed in layers.  I had shell mittens over my gloves, so I took them off and stuffed them into my fanny pack.  I was tempted to take off my Tyvek jacket, but I waited.  After another half mile, we made a sharp left, and I immediately felt a cold wind.  I was glad I didn’t take my jacket off.

By the end of the third mile, I moved ahead of the 4:00 pace group.  At first, I considered holding back to stay with them, but I decided to run faster if it felt easy enough.  For now, it did.   I wasn’t looking at my watch.  I didn’t have a time goal, so I just went according to how I felt.  I told myself to keep the pace relaxed.

Aid stations were spaced about three miles apart.  That’s a bit sparse for a road marathon, but on such a cold day, it was fine.  Nobody was sweating much, unless they were overdressed.

In the fifth mile, I encountered a hill.  It wasn’t a big deal, but for the first time in the race, the pace didn’t feel relaxed.  After I crested the hill, the pace felt easy again.

After two quick turns, we were back on the Paul Bunyan Trail, but headed back toward where we started.  I no longer felt the wind.  It was probably at our backs, but we also may have been sheltered by trees.  It was a fairly narrow path through the forest.  I was probably speeding up here.  I started to pass other runners.

The trail eventually took us back to the south end of Lake Bemidji, near where we started.  At nine miles, we joined up with the “Loop the Lake” course.  All we had left was one complete loop around Lake Bemidji.  We were running around the lake in the counter-clockwise direction.  I knew we would run with the wind on one side and into the wind on the other side.  Ideally, I would have preferred to go into the wind first, and have easier miles later.  It didn’t work out that way.

At first, we were right next to the lake.  We had a view of the lake on our left and the forest on our right.  We were across the lake from the city of Bemidji, so we were in the wilderness.  Sadly, most of the leaves had already fallen.

Eventually, we left the shoreline.  I didn’t even notice when it happened.  I was “in the zone” now.  Without realizing it, I was still speeding up.  When I reached the 13 mile banner, I looked at my watch for the first time.  The halfway point wasn’t marked, but I estimated I reached it in just under 1:56.  That was much faster than I expected.  I left the 4:00 group behind 10 miles earlier, but I didn’t think I would already be four minutes ahead of them.

It occurred to me that my pace was no longer relaxed.  It was taking some effort.  My pace seemed sustainable, but to maintain it for the rest of the race, I would need to go farther and farther out of my comfort zone.  That wasn’t the original plan.

Somewhere after 14 miles, the course split again.  Half marathon and 26K runners turned left, while marathon runners turned right.  We had to do a short out-and-back before making that same turn.  I didn’t notice this when I looked at the course map.  As
I reached the 15 mile banner, I saw the 3:45 pace group already coming back.  I was on pace for about 3:52, so I knew it couldn’t be too much farther to the turnaround.  Before I got there, I ran on a narrow strip of land between two small lakes.

As soon as I turned around, I felt a headwind.  Running up the eastern side of the lake, we had the wind at our backs.  That meant I would have to face a headwind again when we eventually ran south along the western side of the lake.  I wasn’t looking forward to that.

On my way back from the turnaround, I saw the 4:00 pace group.  They were just getting to 15 miles, so it seemed I was halfway between the two pace groups.

I didn’t realize how far north we were.  When I eventually made the same turn the half marathon and 26K runners made earlier, I assumed we were on a trail that would take us back to the eastern shore of the Lake Bemidji.  In fact, we were already completely north of Lake Bemidji.  It took a while, but I eventually realized we were now running around the north end of the lake.

I asked myself how I would feel if I finished in 3:59.  Would I be pleased that I broke four hours or discouraged that I was slower in the second half?  I realized I would be discouraged.  I wanted to hold onto my faster pace and run negative splits.  I didn’t have a time goal at the start of the race, but I had one now.

When I got to the 17 mile banner, I knew we were almost halfway around the lake.  Psychologically, that made the remaining distance seem more manageable.  It also meant I was getting closer to having to face the headwind.

Most of the course was flat, but there was a rolling section on the north end of the lake.  I found myself tiring going up each hill, but recovering on the downhill side.  I was out of my comfort zone, but doing my best to maintain my pace.

At some point, we left the trail and got onto a two lane road.  I didn’t notice where that happened.  I think I was distracted by the hills.  At about 18 miles, we turned from this road onto a busier road.  Now I really felt the wind.  It was both cold and tiring.  I had to run into this wind for most of the next eight miles.

As we came right alongside the lake, I saw the waves.  They were whitecaps.  This was officially a strong wind, and I had to run right into it all along the western side of the lake.

My jacket was unzipped in front.  The wind was catching it and pushing it back over my shoulders.  I realized I needed to zip it up, both for warmth, and to reduce wind drag.  To do that, I had to stop.  I hated to stop, but I took the time to zip up my jacket.  Then I worked hard to get back into my previous pace.  I tried to catch up to some runners who were about a block ahead of me.  It took quite a bit of effort, but I gradually reeled them in.

I passed one just as I reached the 19 mile banner.  I had 7.2 miles to go, and I was determined to run it in less than an hour.  This runner had his name written on the back of his shirt.  As I passed him, I said, “Good job, Mike.  In an hour, you’ll be drinking a beer.”  He replied, “Yeah, but more than one.”  I didn’t know if he meant more than one hour or more than one beer.

I was running much harder now, in an effort to keep up my pace.  I wasn’t looking at my watch, so I didn’t know my pace, but I assumed I was running hard enough to at least maintain my pace.  I just didn’t know if I could keep it up.

We were on the shoulder of a highway, so there was a wide gap between the trees.  Here, we were really exposed to the wind.  Eventually, we turned onto a two lane road that was closer to the lake.  We were still going into the wind, but it didn’t feel as strong.

When I reached the 20 mile mark, I wanted to tell myself I only had 10K to go.  That didn’t help.  It didn’t really matter how far I needed to run.  What mattered more was how long I had to fight this wind.  I was getting cold, and I was getting tired.  Even if I slowed to a more comfortable pace, the wind would still be there.  If I ran slower, I would be in it longer. It was wearing me down, both physically and psychologically.

At 21 miles, I was tempted to look at my watch, but resisted.  At 22 miles, I finally did look at my watch.  I was on pace for a 3:52 finish.  As hard as I had been running for the last four miles, I wasn’t speeding up at all.  That was in spite of the fact that I was working much harder.  To run negative splits, I needed to run faster.  Already, I didn’t know if I could sustain my effort.  That’s when I knew I wouldn’t run negative splits.

At 23 miles, I looked at my watch again.  That mile was slower than nine minutes.  That was confirmation.  I was slowing down.  Shortly after that, I felt myself slowing down even more.  The effort broke me, and I was fading.

We left the road to follow a bike path through a park.  It eventually led us to the edge of the lake.  Across the water, I could see a large building.  I recognized it as the Sanford Center.  That’s where we would finish.  The distance around the lake to get there seemed like a lot more than three miles.

As I continued running around the lake, I kept looking across.  I also recognized the Doubletree hotel, which has a distinctive copper colored roof.  Both buildings seemed a long distance away, but as I continued around the lake, the perspective was changing rapidly.  I could see I was getting closer.

I reached the 24 mile banner.  Just 2.2 miles to go.  That seemed manageable.  Up ahead, I saw runners going up a hill.  When I got there, it was tiring.  This would have been my undoing, but I had already come undone.

I was wearing one of my Comrades Marathon hats over a warm winter hat.  It was so snug, I had trouble putting it on, but a strong gust of wind ripped it off my head.  I looked back to see where it went, but I couldn’t see it.  Another runner told me, “It went down there.”  On my left, there was a stone retaining wall, below the path we were running on.  I had to stop and climb over a metal railing.  Then I had to carefully climb down the stone wall.  Not far behind me, there were steps leading down, but I didn’t want to go that far out of my way.

I retrieved my hat and started climbing up the wall again.  Another runner saw me and asked if I was OK.  I explained about the hat.  I still had to climb over the railing again.  I had to take a few walking steps before I could force myself to run again.  I was slower than before.  With less than two miles to go, I just had to keep moving.  It was going to be slow.  I just had to get it done.

As I got back to the downtown area, I started to recognize buildings. I had been here before.  I passed the statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe.  Ahead of me, I saw the 25 mile sign.

I had to cross a bridge.  The wind was strong there.  As I got across, the Doubletree started to disappear behind the Hampton Inn.  As I ran by Hampton Inn, I wondered how many times I’ve run right past my hotel in the late miles of a race.  I really need to make a list.

As I made my way around the lake, the headwind became a crosswind.  Then, finally, as I ran past Green Mill and Doubletree, the wind shifted.  I finished with a tailwind.

I got back on the Paul Bunyan Trail in the last mile.  As I ran between the lake and some townhomes, I saw a chalk mark on the trail.  It was the turnaround for the kids 1K race, which was held on Friday.  I only had 500 meters to go.  I could see the finish line in the distance.  I remembered seeing it before the race.  It said, “Harness your inner ox.”

My inner ox wanted to finish strong, but my legs wouldn’t respond.  They were stiff.  I don’t know if it was from fatigue or because they were too cold.  I was wearing tights, but that was only one layer.  Everywhere else, I was wearing at least two layers.  My legs don’t respond well when they’re cold.  I couldn’t run faster, even for 500 meters.

I eventually crossed the line in 3:55:21.  I should have been happy to finish with an average pace that was faster than nine minutes per mile.  Instead, I was disappointed that I ran positive splits by more than three minutes.  I gave all of that time back in the last four miles.

A volunteer asked me if I ran the full marathon, so she could give me the correct finisher medal.  Then she said she thought she recognized my jacket.  I was puzzled until I looked down.  For the last eight miles, my jacket was zipped shut.  I forgot to unzip it before finishing, so my race bib was covered up.  I immediately worried about whether my timing chip was detected when I crossed the finish line.

I went into the Sanford Center to look for a results table.  I got my results ship.  It showed my split from an intermediate chip mat, but it didn’t list any finish time.  I almost panicked.  When I asked the volunteer about it, she said, “I don’t know why, but they’re all printing that way.”  Another race official had just printed out a sheet of results that she was about to post.  It showed me finishing in 3:55:21.  I was relieved to know I had an official finish time.

They had a variety of snacks, but I just had some cookies and chocolate milk.  Then I went outside to walk back to my car.  As I was walking to the car, it started drizzling.  Suddenly, I was real glad I drove over instead of walking.  I could not have handled walking back to the hotel in the rain, even if it was less than a mile.

When I got back to the hotel, I took my gloves off.  Excluding my thumbs, all of my fingers were white.  That’s a symptom of Raynaud’s Syndrome, which I’ve had for as long as I can remember.  I started taking medication for it two years ago.  Since then, this has rarely happened.  Even before, it was usually only one or two fingers.  This time, it was all of them.  I got cold.

After a warm bath and a cup of tea, the color returned to my hands.  Just to be sure, I spent 10 minutes in the hot tub and another five minutes in the sauna.  When I was ready to go out again, I went to Bemidji Brewing Company.  My race bib had a coupon for a free beer.  I saw they also served food.  When I saw pizza on the menu, I knew where I was having dinner.

Although I was initially disappointed that I ran positive splits, I now blame that on the wind.  It’s tough to finish strong when you have a headwind for the last eight miles.  I’m pleased that I broke four hours.  At the start of the day, I would have been happy with 4:15.  I wasn’t feeling well, and I wasn’t fully recovered from the Chicago Marathon.

My goal to run every Minnesota marathon seems more and more like a never-ending journey.  Every year, there’s at least one new race.  Two weeks ago, I heard about a new trail marathon in Savage, MN.  It’s next weekend, and it’s too late to sign up for this year’s race.  I’ve done all the Minnesota marathons that are at least two years old, but there are now at least five new races that I haven’t done yet.

Race Statistics

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  3:55:21

Average Pace:  8:59

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  359

Minnesota Marathons/Ultras:  48