Lessons Learned from Grandma's Marathon: A Reflection and Recap

I ran a marathon on Saturday. It wasn't my best. It wasn't my fastest. But it was the first time I ran it not feeling dread.

Deciding to register

My friend and I signed up for it last year on the agreement that this would be our year to get back into shape. I'd had a baby two years before and wanted to reclaim my long-distance running routine, and she had stepped away from exercise for a while to focus on herself in other ways.

So we registered. We celebrated. We panicked. We planned.

But no excuses. On race day we were both crossing the finish line.

Running the race

Grandma's Marathon is a point-to-point on a road that hugs the Lake Superior shoreline. Most of the course consists of small rolling hills, and the view from various lookout points is spectacular. Course support is fantastic—people cheering, playing music, or yelling, "You're so strong!" every single mile. The finish line itself intimates triumph, with large balloon arches welcoming you to the final timing mat.

The day itself started with a 30-minute delay due to storms that had pushed into the area overnight. From then on, details of when the start was happening, whether or not the corrals had staggered starts, whether we were in a heat wave or not made for slight chaos, but eventually the start signal sounded and we were off.

There's something beautiful about watching a sea of runners stampede into the distance. This year Grandma's boasted over 18,000 finishers across all three events (marathon, half, and 5k). For literal miles after leaving the start, I watched the waves of people crest and dip as they charged the course. At no point in the race did I find myself alone, however. People were all around, celebrating the small gains together.

Learning lessons

Saturday's marathon finish tallied 7 full marathons for me (two of them virtual in 2020). For all but this one, I was very diligent in my training, running 5-6 days a week, 40-45+ miles at peak, and getting my long runs done every weekend (usually with friends).

This training session, however, I was in a different season of life. I entered the training period trying to heal from plantar fasciitis, still working off weight I'd put on in pregnancy, trying to find training partners after moving to a new area, and adjusting to parenthood. I stuck to 3-4 days of running a week, sometimes less, so come race day I admittedly did not feel extremely prepared. But I've done enough of them to know that I can run one even if I'm not at my top fitness level.

And so I did.

I finished in 5 hours and 27 minutes, over a whole hour slower than my PR. But this was the first time I was at peace with my abilities. Normally, I put a lot of pressure on myself to do well in races, usually feeling defeated somewhere before I hit the wall and unsure I can keep going. But by taking my time at this race and having no expectations other than to finish, I kept my mind focused and the pressure off. When I reached the final 0.2 miles, I felt joy.

I wouldn't recommend undertraining for a marathon like I did, but sometimes you just have to embrace what life throws at you and get the run done.

My friend and I didn't PR—not by long shots—but we did what we set out to do: crossed the finish line with our heads held high, humbled by the experience.

Running again

There's no doubt I'll run Grandma's again. It's a great course with incredible supporters and volunteers. Next time I'll aim to train better, and if it happens, great. If not, I'll try to give myself grace while I work through the miles one step at a time.