Grandma's Marathon (MN), June 21st, 2014

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.

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.