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With most of my extended family residing in or near Minnesota and having
spent 2-4 weeks there every year since I have been alive, I have logged quite a
few miles in the state (in everything from 80 degree “heat waves” to upper
teens and 2 foot snow drifts, in shorts).
After having spent so much time there, I decided to officially check it
off my list. Grandma’s fit
perfectly into my schedule, just after school got out and what I hoped would be
a cool weather run after the spring heat in North Carolina.
I’ve run a number of small races, where locals don’t even know it’s
happening, and for some reason I thought Grandma’s might fit into that
category. Mid March I figured out
I was wrong when I started looking for a hotel, which were all sold out, as was
almost every other lodging option within 40 miles. Thankfully for me and hundreds of other runners, Duluth is a
college town. Along with the rest
of the city, who completely embraced race weekend, the College of St. Scholastica
and the University of Minnesota-Duluth opened up their dorms to rent to
runners. I prepared myself to
travel back in time, looking forward to reliving “dorm life.”
After visiting family in Minneapolis, I headed north the day before the
race. I had strict instructions to
venture up the North Shore, along old highway 61, the same route the race would
travel. Old highway 61 winds along
the shore of Lake Superior with state parks and overlooks to stop and check out
the views. After a lunch at Grandma’s
Saloon and Grill (the namesake of the race), I started up the coast.
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| Lake Superior |
I was excited to check out the course and get a glimpse of what I would
run the next day. Unfortunately,
that’s not exactly what happened.
You see, something strange (although I would later learn from locals,
quite normal) happened as I arrived in Duluth. I left Minneapolis with clear skies in the mid to upper 70s,
maintaining this through most of the drive. Arriving in Duluth was like dropping into a 60-degree
cloud. I could see my hand in
front of my face, but not far beyond that. Being a cold weather runner, I decided the temperature would
be perfect for running, pulled on my fleece picked up my packet, and assumed
the fog would burn off (that’s what happens to fog, right). The fog did not burn off and while I did
enjoy the drive up the highway with several stops for short hikes and foggy
overlooks, it was not the scenic drive I had hoped for.
After a good night’s sleep in my dorm room (complete with “extra long”
twin beds and hall bathrooms, something I didn’t get to experience in my
college days), I hopped on a bus to the start. I definitely plan my race schedule to train in warm weather
and race in cooler temperatures but was not expecting what I got in
Duluth. As I was registering for
Grandma’s, a friend pointed out that they use the American College of Sports
Medicine color-coded flag system to convey weather threats (black=extremely
high heat risk, red=high heat risk, yellow=moderate heat risk, green=low heat
risk, white=risk of hypothermia).
The humor in this was not that they use the system, but that they
included the white flag definition in pre-race materials. I assumed they included it for
informational purposes only; perhaps they just wanted to raise awareness of all
warnings in the system. Then I
arrived at the start (happy to have tossed my fleece pants in my suitcase at
the last minute) to find temperatures in the low 40s and white flag
warnings. Not to mention a misty
fog (again, I am sure the lake is beautiful, but am going on what I saw in
postcards and pictures, as I don’t know that I ever saw it). And did I mention, hypothermia
warnings?
Needless to say, I was thrilled to start running/moving/raising my body
temperature when the gun went off.
It was a great course, mostly flat with some small rolling hills. The only thing that could have made it
better was seeing Lake Superior, which they tell me was on my left for most of
the race. Another runner described
it well; the whole race was like running in a dream with an eerie crowd of
people disappearing into the fog in front of and behind you. 26.2 miles later, I crossed the finish
line knocking 6 minutes off my PR, something I attribute 5% of to training and
95% to temperature.
After a couple quick snacks I was happy to find the changing tent and my
warm, dry clothes. Had I not
thought to toss my warm-ups in at the last minute, I would surely have been the
proud owner of a fancy new University of Minnesota sweat suit. While it may sound like this is the
North Carolina coming out in me, complaining about the cold, I encourage you to check out race
pictures from 2014, and to notice the spectators in winter coats. And hats. And gloves. I
will be sure to pack mine next time.
