Grandma's Recap

(Pictured- Ebullience at mile #5)



Well...it's been over a week and she's ambulatory and running again, so I hope you'll forgive this race recap for being a little late. Yes, she finished the world famous G-Ma's Marathon and lived to tell the tale. FeeJ and I (with the eventual additions of Cap'n Dawn, Melbus, and Cap't Dottie) crewed like fiends with FeeJ doing a lion's share by hauling me around and snapping some tremendous photo's. (As seen above and below. She has a good eye, that one.)



Without getting into too much detail (and with my already terrible penchant for rambling-moreover rambling about running), I think I'd like to tell my 4 readers: Go and watch a marathon. Moreover, leapfrog mileage stops from as close to the start of the race all the way to mile 25. I'm not saying it'll replace your favorite professional sports team, but (for me) the experience- watching almost an entire marathon from start to finish? Was almost transformative.

We made it to our Kampsite Friday afternoon, had a nice dinner at the local restaurant down the street from the Kampgrounds, and turned in early...only to be roused by pissing rain coming down on the rooftop and an anxious-to-make the bus Moda. At 4am. I was still without my faculties at this point. After making it in to Duluth, FeeJ and I killed time at a Perkins with our darkly comical server- although when we started to head out to our first post (mile 5) we were nearly trapped in the parking lot since we neglected to notice that we were on the course and the first half-Mary finishers were heading on home. (Course record, btw- 1:02 half marathon. Jesus.)


We started getting our text updates from the G-Ma's website (Technology is neat!), in addition to our neighborly NE crew of A+D+Crash who were leapfrogging with us as well. FeeJ took to a light pole for a better view ala' "Singin' In the Rain" and after about 20 minutes, the wheelers started in:



And then the "Elite" runners. (Please notice the "mid-strike" footfall. Also? You could have balanced trays on their heads. Almost no bouncing. There were some good one's of the female elites but- get this- they were too fast)

Working with the Ginger's, (and grateful the rain dissipated) we made our way to mile 12 to park and watch. The racers, for the most part, were still ebullient but you could see the fatigue on their faces. By this point, we started recognizing racers from earlier and were able to better identify pace groups. (Although finding Moda...I mean if she hadn't sought us out I'd have missed her entirely) One of my favorite parts was checking out the different race costumes*, identifying footwear (several Veeb sightings) and just...clapping for everybody. Because everyone deserved a clap. Everyone.

*My favorite race t-shirt slogans included: "I shaved my balls for this?!?", "Running Sucks", and lastly "Running is GOOD for you...and your fat ass". Other race garb spanned the gamut from homemade hand-lettered "Marathon Virgin!" to silkscreened commemorative t-shirts with the picture of a deceased loved one. And then there were the "costumes"...tu-tu's, a guy dressed up like a rubber duck, a guy we nicknamed "running Jesus", and...and this guy. I'll be honest...I didn't like him too much:

(Later that night, Moda said the dude had an obnoxious habit of running off the course to have a pee in the woods before returning)

FeeJ and I then started to head back to Downtown Duluth to meet up with the rest of our crew/crew-dog and it was while stuck in traffic I received the worrisome text from 'Lis that said "Mile 16 and she's hurting". Great. And our next planned station wasn't until mile 25 or so. We eventually met with the Cap'n D et.al and made the walk from around mile 23 through downtown proper. While proudly wearing our Mo-Mer hankies, we were able to view first hand the last few miles...and the effects it had on the racers. (This, to me, was the most fascinating)

Gone were the smiles and ebullience. At this point you could tell that people were digging deep, or at least praying that the end was near. They were walking. There were people barefoot. (My favorite? The guy that smacked the mile marker with his shoes. Second only to the dude who looked like he was sooooo close to tossing his cookies) There were...bloody nipples. (WHY WEAR WHITE!?!? WHY?!?!?!?!)

But we kept cheering. We kept screaming. And the crowds...they kept following (We also noticed folks who'd been stationed and apparently leap-frogging like we did) In fact, the outpouring of support was infectious and effusive. And even though I was freezing balls (44 degrees? In June? Really?) I kept clapping and screaming until my hands went numb.

(Pictured- The truth)

And yet here I was, still worried about the Mo. We finally made it to a spot by the DECC center around mile 26 or so and waited. I finally got the text that she crossed mile 25 and we continued to clap and yell for the runners- many of whom looked like they made the worst decision in their lives. And then one woman...one woman re-affirmed that when she came "air-pulling" toward the group of us...and the families and children that surrounded us. And that affirmation came out in a primal and lusty cry!!!

(Pictured: Primal Lust. And Lactic acid. And blisters)

"THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING THING EVER!!!"

Well...with that hearty endorsement in mind, let me hustle on out and sign up for one! We milled over to the finish area and waited until we heard her name announced. (At this point, I received a flurry of text messages from the Bean, who was watching the live video stream from home, asking if he was seeing her correctly)

And man...you have never seen a flurry of emotion pass across somebodies face as much as a marathon finisher. The laughing melts into intense sobbing, back to amazement, to pain, to laughing and all smiles.

Like this:

While she limped off to pick up her gear ("This is bullshit. WHY are they making the race finishers walk another block to get their crap?!?!) I took a few minutes to soak it all in. And it wasn't pretty. In fact, it was almost like a trauma center. A little harrowing too, since they don't let you walk in with the finishers to get their stuff. We waited a tick longer until she came out (more smiles, more tears, more worry that she lost a toenail...which was only a pretty agitated blister) We walk/carried her a few blocks away until we were picked up by Dawn and Melbus and headed to grab some food at a restaurant that wasn't bursting with racers before heading back to the campsite proper for a well deserved party. (Or in Moda's case, limping to bed and passing out at 8:45.)

So I've volunteered at a water stop. I've hung out next to race/course marshall's at full-marathons. And this'll be technically the 2nd time I've crewed for Mo during a run. But I'm stone-cold serious when I tell you that you should think about attending a marathon and following the course of the run from stem to stern. It's a powerful thing to see people-from the "Elite" runners all the way to 1st timers who just want to finish (the last place finisher came in just over 7 hours.) and how they evolve/devolve as the joy and energy is slowly replaced, mile by mile, with gritted teeth. Pain. Focus. Resolve. Just to say you ran 26.2 miles. I guarantee...the racers will appreciate it from the bottom of their medallioned hearts.