26.5 miles*
minneapolis to st. paul
49-63ish degrees
*officially, it was 26.2, but according to my watch, it was 26.5
I’m writing this the morning after because I was too wiped to write it yesterday. I woke up feeling stiff and sore — my quads are sore, my right knee is stiff, the side of my right foot hurts a little. Nothing that terrible. Once I get moving; it gets easier. Going down stairs is one of the most difficult things to do. As I walked down the basement steps to get frozen blueberries out of the freezer, I had to tell my legs what to do: down down down.
Yesterday’s race was a success. I achieved all of my goals, which were modest:
- figure out the unfinished business situation so I don’t have to use the port-a-potty 4 times, like in the last marathon. Number of port-a-potties used in this race = 0!
- hydrate and fuel better: in 2024, I didn’t drink enough water and was very dehydrated by the end. This year, I carried a bigger water flask and stopped at every water station (well, almost every water station after Scott and I split up). I also started drinking the electrolytes they offered before the water and 6, or was it 7?, Cliff blocks. And, when they offered half bananas around mile 22, I took that too
- be more intentional with run/walk breaks when things get harder. Things got hard early on: about 9 miles in. As I ran around Lake Nokomis, I did 90 sec run/ 30 sec walk. For the second half of the race, I did, 1 min run / 1 min walk
- finish happy: 2 years ago, as I finished and met up with Scott, I was irritated and hostile. This time, I was chill and happy, even though I was tired and suffered several calf spasms (almost, but not quite, cramps) as I neared the finish line
- go faster. I ran 15 minutes faster this time — from 5 hours and 37 minutes in 2024, to 5 hours and 22 minutes in 2026
So, I’m happy with what I did yesterday. I am also not satisfied, which means that sometime in the future, I will run this marathon again. No one and done, or two and through for me!
I wouldn’t say I enjoyed the race, but I’m very glad I did it. From the beginning, it felt difficult. And, it never got any easier. I just kept going for more than 5 hours. Often, runners will talk about having a “bad patch” in a race, and then getting out of it. If you keep going, it will get better. I suppose that happened a little for me; I wasn’t suffering every second of the race. But, I never really felt better. It was always hard. Some part of me always hurt. I was always hoping I could get to the finish line sooner. And, in that state of suffering and exhaustion, I couldn’t spin the experience into anything other than hard. I had to confront something difficult that couldn’t be sugar coated or re-imagined as not hard.
I’m good at finding ways to make things seem not hard. Often, it serves me well. But, there are times when things are just hard and you have to endure them as hard. As I write about enduring, I’m thinking about Marie Howe and Ross Gay and their discussions of not looking away, of being present and aware and witnessing suffering. They are both talking about the suffering of others, but I think it applies to your own suffering too. In this marathon, I couldn’t look away from the difficulty of it, and I didn’t, and I finished. I’m proud of that.
26 Things
- very crowded in the beginning, difficult to run a full stride, lots of cracks and holes in the downtown streets. After just a block or two, a woman fell and was able to get up and continue
- a line at the port-a-potties, about a mile in, near the Walker Art Center
- more cracks as we ran toward lake of the isles — it had rained recently, and water had collected in the cracks, making them easier to spot
- another runner, (perhaps too) enthusiastically, jumping up and down and side to side as they ran
- song, heard at least twice: Rihanna’s “Umbrella”
- song, heard once: Whitney Houston’s “I wanna dance with Somebody”
- the song that started the race: Doobie Brothers “Taking it to the Streets”
- no bells today ringing out from the basilica this year — they’re being repaired
- Justice Page playing his tuba somewhere near Lake of the Isles
- overhearing another runner saying, I’m not even paying attention to the lakes! I wasn’t either
- a spectator to a runner: I love your vest! I have no idea why they loved it, or what it said, but the runner called out, I am NEVER doing this again!
- a man on a microphone: remember any finishing time is finishing! we were at Lake Nokomis, just past the halfway point. It was not inspirational to me, instead, it seemed to be reminding us that we were all running slow
- people handing out pickle juice a few minutes later — it’s good for muscle cramps
- seeing RJP just before mile 15, giving her a sweaty hug, first saying to her, this is hard! then telling her about what the guy said
- a daughter in her 20s with her dad who seemed to have an injury and needed to take it slow — he was very enthusiastic: he called after me as I powered up a hill (which was a mistake) that’s how you do it! then later, hearing some taiko drums, raising his hand and yelling, taiko drums! yes!
- running by the house near the trestle with the bleachers that blasts music every year: last year it was “the impossible dream,” this year some old country song about “fresh cool water”
- this year, my name was on my bib — it was so encouraging to hear dozens of people call out, Go Sara! You can do this Sara!
- before the race started, waiting in the port-a-potty line beside a tall, 20-something guy in a bright pink breast cancer awareness shirt — we were in corral 3 (slowest), he was in corral (1) — he was so kind and soft-spoken — I wonder how fast he went. I heard him say to the guys ahead of us, this is my first and my last marathon!
- near the Walker, a guy spoke into his watch, hey siri, call bill
- peeling 1/2 of a banana, dropping it on the ground, picking it up and eating it anyway, feeling some grit on my teeth
- hearing, and not believing: this is the last bit of the hill — it’s all downhill after that! dear reader, it was not the last bit of the hill and it was not all downhill after it!
- nearing the finish line, cramping up, noticing what I think was a spray of puke off to the side
- some stretch between franklin and summit — a series of dark shadows on the concrete — birds flying overhead, then a bigger shadow softening the sun — a plane!
- song: Lean on Me, at least I think that was the song?, thinking about my mom, then almost crying until I felt a calf spasm — I think this was the first spasm — mile 20
- a woman pulling out her phone, telling someone, go the truck and get the cold beer and bring it to the finish line!
- as I walked and struggled near the end, a woman touched my back gently and said, you can do this! And I decided I could — I ran faster down the hill, feeling great, until my calf started to knot up and I didn’t — I tried to run it off, but had to step 25 feet from the finish line and walk it in
- (26.1) a dog barking near the course, sounding like the perfect form of a dog bark, I said to Scott, that’s classic dog or something like that
- (26.2) many intense, unpleasant smells from bodies working too hard: too sour, too sweet, musky / other, better smells: doughnuts, the faint hint of bubble-gummy perfume, which I normally strongly dislike, but not today
I don’t remember noticing the river or any wild turkeys. No fun Halloween decorations, barely a view of the lake. Many of the familiar paths/roads seemed strange.
The organizers did a wonderful job with everything (but, the number of port-a-potties, according to Scott. Thankfully, I wouldn’t know about that!). The entertainment on the course — a brass band, a community band, taiko drums, xylophones — was great. The water/electrolyte stops were abundant, and the volunteers handing out fluids were incredibly supportive — you’ve got this Sara! Unlike two years ago, there were lots of people out on the course cheering us slower runners on. And, the food hadn’t been packed up before I finished. Once I was done (Scott finished 25 minutes ahead of me), we sat on the grass for almost an hour — that hour felt like 5 minutes. Running for more than 5 hours, makes time and place strange.
It’s now the afternoon, and I’ve finally had a chance to finish this entry. My thighs and knee feel less sore; only my right foot is still sore. I might have more to write about the marathon, but I’ll save it for another day.