How do I Run Marathons So Frequently

If you’re reading this, you probably already know that I run a lot of marathons.  Most of my friends do too.  When I meet someone new, they’re often shocked by the number of marathons I’ve run.  I’m often asked how many I run in a year.

When people ask how I can run marathons so close together, I usually tell them that the more often I run marathons, the more easily I recover from them.  Your body adapts to the things you do regularly.

That’s the physical side, but there’s also a psychological side.  In the late 90s, I met another runner from Minnesota named Burt.  Burt was much older than me, and he was running about 26 marathons per year.  He also sometimes ran ultramarathons.  I met him at a 24-hour race.

25 years ago, I saw Burt at the Fox Cities Marathon in Wisconsin.  He was wearing a T-shirt from the Mt. Rushmore Marathon.  That race was the previous weekend.  I asked him if he was doing the Twin Cities Marathon.  He was.  That race was weekend after Fox Cities.

Burt was running marathons on at least three consecutive weekends.  I was amazed by that.  I asked Burt, “How do you do that?  How do you run marathons so close together?”  Hos answer blew me away.

Burt said, “Well, when you’re looking at the race calendar, and you see a race that looks interesting, you sign up for it.  Once you’re signed up for it, it’s gonna happen.”

I still love the simplicity of that answer.  It’s all about attitude.  Once Burt signed up for a race, there was no doubt in his mind that he would finish it.  It’s really about making a mental commitment to a race.  Once you’ve made that commitment, you’ll find a way to do it.  Finishing a marathon is at least as much psychological as it is physical.

At the time, I was still early in my journey to run marathons in all 50 states.  I wasn’t like Burt.  At first, I was averaging three new states per year.  Toward the end of my journey, I was doing as many as five new states in a year.  I sometimes also ran a local race, but I don’t think I ever did more than six marathons or ultras in year.

In 2010, I finished running marathons in all 50 states.  I finished at the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, VT.  Then I went to a post-race party.  The host of the party invited anyone who was a member of the 50 States Marathon Club.  I was one of two runners who finished their 50 states journey at that race.  There was another runner who finished her fifth circuit of 50 states at that race.  The three of us were the guests of honor, but the talk of the party was a young woman named Laura.

Laura was 24 years old.  She started running marathons two years earlier, and she had already run marathons in 49 states.  When she ran her 50th state, she would be the youngest woman to do that.  I asked Laura which state she still needed.  She was planning to finish one week later at the Minneapolis Marathon.

I live in a suburb of Minneapolis, so that race was local for me.  I was at a different race that morning, but I went to Laura’s post-race party.  Many of the runners at the party were other members of the 50 States Marathon Club, but at least half were members of another club called Marathon Maniacs.  I wasn’t previously familiar with this club, but I learned more about it.  It’s all about running marathons frequently, and you have to qualify before you can join, either by running three marathons within 90 days or by running two marathons within 16 days.

As it turns out, I was already qualified for the club.  Had I learned about this club earlier, I probably would’ve concluded that it wasn’t for me.  Since I had just finished my long-term goal to run marathons in every state, I was ready to try something new.

A week later, I joined Marathon Maniacs.  Then I jumped in with both feet.  My first three marathons after joining were on three consecutive weekends.  It took several months to adapt to my more frequent racing schedule.  By the following year, I was consistently running faster, despite running races every week or two.

After Burt ran his 300th marathon, he was interviewed for the newsletter of a local running club.  When they asked him which race was his favorite, he said it was the Reggae Marathon in Jamaica.  I was curious to know why Burt liked that race so much, so I signed up for it.  It was my second marathon outside the United States.

Burt and Laura were both at that race.  Here’s a picture of the three of us at a post-race party.  Burt was the older runner who inspired me.  Laura was the younger runner who inspired me.  What they had in common was their confidence and their ambition.  Now I’m just like them.  Hopefully, I’ll inspire other runners the way they both inspired me.

Once You're Signed Up For It, It's Gonna Happen.

17 years ago, I met another runner from Minnesota named Burt Carlson.  Burt was already a living legend.  He’s much older than me, but he was running at least two dozen marathons a year.  He also did ultramarathons.

The first time I saw Burt at a race was during the FANS 24-Hour Run in 1998.  He wasn’t moving very fast, but Burt ran just over 100 kilometers.  Three months later, I saw him again at the pre-race dinner for the Olander Park 24-Hour Run in Sylvania, OH.  He was entertaining other runners with tales from races all over the world.  It seemed like any race I had heard of, Burt had already done.

In 1999, I bumped into Burt at the Fox Cities Marathon in Wisconsin.  He had run a marathon in South Dakota the previous weekend, and he was going to do the Twin Cities Marathon the next weekend.  That’s three weekends in a row.  At the time, that blew my mind.

I asked Burt, “How do you race so often?”  I loved the simplicity of his answer.  He said, “Well, when you’re looking at the race calendar, and you see a race that looks interesting, you sign up for it.  Once you’re signed up for it, it’s gonna happen.”

He made it sound so easy.  At the time, I was still working on running marathons in all 50 states.  I was doing three or four new states a year.  I was also doing FANS, making a total of four or five races a year.  To me, that still seemed like a lot.

Eventually, I joined Marathon Maniacs.  Then I started to adopt Burt’s philosophy.  I started planning race schedules that most people would consider insane.  First it was 23 in a year … then 32 … then 53.  The first time I ran marathons on three consecutive weekends, it was a big deal.  A few years later, I was running them on five consecutive days.

For a long time, it seemed like Burt was right.  It was mostly a matter of attitude.  Once you signed up for a race, you made a mental commitment to it.  Then you would somehow make it happen.  It really worked.  It seemed like the hardest part was avoiding travel mishaps, so I could make it to packet pickup on time.  If I made it to the starting line with a race bib, the race seemed to take care of itself.

When it gets tough is when you have an injury.  In 2012, I pulled a hamstring five miles into the Lost Dutchman Marathon.  One second, I’m running fast.  The next second, I can’t run without a limp.  I toughed out five more miles at a slow pace, while telling myself that I could still break four hours.  I was in a lot of pain, and I realized I was going to make my leg worse by continuing to run.  One thought kept me going.  My flight to Phoenix was expensive, and I went there just for the race.  I didn’t spend that much on airfare to NOT finish a race.  I walked the last 16 miles, finishing in 5:20.

I generally book my travel anywhere from two to six months in advance.  I couldn’t run at all, but I had another marathon in two weeks.  I also had one two weeks after that … and two weeks after that … and two weeks after that … for months.

A week later, I tried to run on a treadmill.  The best pace I could manage was about 15 minutes per mile.  I know people who walk faster than that.  Even at that pace, I could only finish one mile, and even that felt like way too much.  By the end of the week, I progressed to five miles at a pace that was still pretty slow.  Then I flew to New Orleans for the Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans Marathon.  I couldn’t fathom how I could possibly run a marathon.  I was taking a leap of faith.  Somehow, I would find a way.

The day before the race, I was limping as I walked to the expo.  I was hoping for a miracle.  Then I found one.  Pro-Tech Athletics had a booth there.  They had braces and supports for every imaginable running injury.  One was a hamstring compression wrap that was easy to adjust.  I bought it.

Even wearing the compression wrap, I needed to be careful not to run too fast.  My friend Shannan was doing the half marathon.  Shannan was going to run at a pace that might be safe for me.  One of the nice things about that race is that the marathon and half marathon followed the same route for 12.4 miles.  If I didn’t feel up to running the marathon, I could always switch to the half marathon.  If I couldn’t make it that far, I could stop at nine miles, when the course passed close to my hotel.  We lined up in one of the last corrals.

Running at Shannan’s pace – with a compression wrap – was something I could manage.  I finished the race in 5:09.  More importantly, I didn’t make my leg worse.

Two weeks later, I ran another marathon wearing the compression wrap.  I was closer to my usual pace.  Two weeks after that, I ran a marathon without the wrap, and ran just fast enough to qualify for Boston.  Two weeks after that, I ran two in the same weekend.  I was fully recovered.

It wouldn’t be the last time I pulled a hamstring.  The next time it happened was in October of 2013.  This time I had races scheduled every weekend for the next 10 weeks.  On some of those weekends, I was doing two marathons … or three … or four.  On the weekends that I only had one race, it was always a race where I was counting on qualifying for Boston.  This was during my final push to qualify for Boston in every state.

I took it one race at a time.  I listened to my body.  Sometimes I wore the compression wrap.  Sometimes, I didn’t, but I held back.  Somehow, I managed to run qualifying times in the races where I needed them.  By the time I got to the last race in my schedule, I was healed.  Unfortunately, after 10 weeks of racing without any real training, I was also getting out of shape.  In that last race, I couldn’t run fast enough to qualify.

I never questioned if these races were going to happen.  I took it one race at a time.  I assumed I would somehow finish.  Then I found a way.

That’s not to say that’s I’ve never had a DNF.  In June of 2012, I dropped out after 55 miles of the Western States 100.  Now I have a monkey on my back.  I’m determined to eventually go back and finish.  Last year, I dropped out after 48 miles of the Bighorn Mountain 100.  That was especially hard to take, because it was supposed to be my qualifying race for Western States.

Now I have two monkeys on my back.  First I need to go back and finish the Bighorn Mountain 100.  Then I need to get into Western States, so I can eventually finish that one too.

“Once you’re signed up for it, it’s gonna happen.”

If only it really was that simple.  Determination can carry you a long way, but sometimes it’s not enough.

In early May, I suffered a groin strain.  I was scheduled to run the Ogden Marathon a week later.  I realized I wasn’t sufficiently recovered, so I let that one go.  I had a few non-refundable expenses, but I did my best to cut my losses.  A week later, I was signed up for the Med City Marathon.  I started that race, but dropped out halfway, when I was having groin discomfort.

My next race was the Comrades Marathon.  I was willing to have a DNS at Ogden.  I was willing to have a DNF at Med City.  I wouldn’t give up on Comrades.  I had almost $2,000 of travel expenses that I couldn’t recoup.  If I didn’t do the “up” course this year, I wouldn’t get another chance until 2017.  I would never get another chance to go for a back-to-back medal.  It was now or never.

I finished that race, but not without some discomfort.  It probably delayed my full recovery from the groin strain.  I had three more weeks to recover before the Bighorn Mountain 100, but I’m not quite there yet.

I could have cancelled my flight without penalty, but I had to do it at least 72 hours in advance.  That was this morning.  I didn’t cancel my flight.  I’ll travel to Wyoming on Thursday.

I’ve agonized over this decision for the past week.  I have two monkeys on my back.  Bighorn Mountain is my only qualifier for next year’s Western States 100.  If I don’t finish one, I also don’t qualify for the other.  Those monkeys get heavier every year.  I have to finish this race if I possibly can.

I have a tough race schedule in July.  It includes a triple, a tough trail marathon, a road marathon that descends 4,500 feet, and a 78K trail race through the Swiss Alps.  Getting through those races in one piece will be tough.  It’ll be impossible if I don’t go into them healthy.

A few days ago, I had serious doubts about healing before this weekend.  I felt much better yesterday and today.  I’m not 100 percent, but I’m getting closer.  I have four more days before the race.

If I mess myself up, and can’t finish my July races, I’ll probably have regrets, even if I finish the Bighorn Mountain 100.  If I don’t even attempt Bighorn, I’ll always wonder what would’ve happened.

“Without the possibility of failure, there can be no success.”

I don’t know who said that, but it’s what drives me to do races like Western States and Bighorn Mountain.  They’re not supposed to be easy.

I’m going into this race with a possibility of failure.  I’m also giving myself a chance to succeed.  One way or another, it’s going to be a memorable experience.