Hark. For I am back from Minnesota, land of bog and bird. Actually, I think it’s the land of 10,000 lakes, but the bogs, baby, they doth abound.

I was there to run the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon, which is not a “trail” marathon, per se, but named in honor of its course along the flat, paved Lake Wobegon Trail, which spans 65 miles across Minnesota dairy cow country — outside of Minneapolis. The prettiest stretch of the trail is said to be from Holdingford to St. Joseph (locally St. Joe), where the marathon takes place. Indeed it was pastoral and peaceful, rural swaths of verdant green stretching out to the hilly horizon in either direction and black-water bogs aflit with the chirping, croaking song of spring despite the many miserly mops of ravaged grasses indicating that an Encino Man-level thaw had taken place only very recently and not everyone had yet come back to life.

I loved everything about the trip. The cool weather. The rock quarries. The lake in back of our rental home and the wild call of loons after sundown. The delicious lakefront haunt, Fisher’s Club, known for its fish and chips. The fact that my sister and I spent a long weekend driving the country roads in a Pacifica minivan blasting 90s music the way you’d expect two invisible 40-something white ladies on vacation to do. The relief of not having a creature climb up from the rental home’s basement to murder us in our sleep as they are wont to do. Thank you, Minnesota!

Oh yeah, I also ran a PR and felt great doing it. That was pretty cool. Here’s how it all went down.

My Strategy

Go out slow, speed up a little, and see what happens.

Because I had a bit of a lower mileage/less demanding training block, I dialed back the expectations for the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon. My goals were to run a negative split race, catch the 3:45 group by the end if I was feeling good, and finish. Because of this I went in with a lot less stress than my previous two marathons — one a classic first-timer bonk fest and the other a warm weather heartbreaker. I just wanted to see if I could run a marathon without dying at the end (spoiler: turns out I can) and not make myself sick with stress beforehand.

I’d also read about the 10/10/10 method in an old Runner’s World article. It basically means:

run the first 10 miles with your head
run the next 10 miles at pace
run the last 10k with your heart

Well, okay then. That was my plan. Negative split and 10/10/10. Whatever time I finished in was just fine. Let’s do this.

My Splits

First Half: 1:52:17 (8:34 pace)

I went out at around 9:10 pace and eased into the first mile. A long downhill (for this Houston runner) about a half-mile in helped get my legs a turnin’ and I clocked an 8:55. I then dipped down comfortably into the 8:40s and upper 8:30s for the next two miles, warming up. By then I was entering a flow state (other than having to pee, but no, I did not stop) and just cranked my jams and settled in, knocking off times in the 8:30s and being all zen like oooh aaaah I’m in a marathon right now and I don’t have a time goal and that takes away so much pressure yipeeeeweeeee. With the 10/10/10 method in mind, I was feeling pretty fresh at Mile 11 and started dipping down into the 8:20s.

Second Half: 1:49:41 (8:22 pace)

An ecstatic goober crosses the finish line.

By Mile 14, I was dipping into the 8:10s, which freaked me out a little bit, and I can see in my splits where I kind of pulled back and then went again, knocking off low 8s for Miles 17 and 18. I couldn’t believe how good I felt running under, at, and just above 8:20 this far in the race. There was no struggle.

But then I really started to feel my legs, primarily my quads — a new sensation, since usually I’d be bonking, cramping, and suffering here. My sister, cheering around Mile 19 in Avon, reminded me: “Last 10k with your heart.”

I devoted a few miles to family members and repeated mantras to keep the pace up, but after a training cycle of not going very long (or very hard), I didn’t have much closing speed to give. I did pass quite a few folks in those last miles though (and 28 runners total out of 300 in the entire race) which made it easier.

I’d read about how passing people in a marathon is one of the best feelings in racing. It’s certainly better than dying at the end — I will say that. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in a marathon.

Overall Time: 3:41:58

Nailed It

Sleeping the night before. Less stress around the race meant less anxiety around bed time on the eve of a race. I was in bed by 9 p.m., read some Murakami (yes, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running; I am that nerd), and was out by 10:30 p.m. for a 4:45 wake up. Typically I am a hot mess who tosses and turns all night before races, so 6+ solid hours was pretty nice.

Carb loading. There is a particular scene in Trailer Park Boys when Mr. Lahey looks at his shirtless, bloated sidekick Randy and states, “Randy…I am the liquor.” This is exactly how I feel in the 2-3 days pre-race while stuffing nonstop carbs into my face, drunk on processed grain o’ plenty, deranged if you will, belligerent. My sister noted several times how much I complained about the carbs. How, on race morning, I looked deep into a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and told it to go fuck itself. So that’s carb loading at work. It does help.

Race hydration and nutrition. I ran with a water bottle filled with Gu Roctane and felt like a champion. I never felt dehydrated. I never bonked. I took a Maurten caffeinated gel 15 minutes before the start at then alternated caff/non-caff at Miles 5, 10, 15, 20 and 22. I stuck to just the water at the water stops, mainly due to feeling so good from the Gu drink, which in all honestly tastes like Fruit Stripe gum — make of that information what you will.

Staying positive. I smiled at every water stop. I thanked the volunteers. I chatted briefly with a runner or two. I gave many a thumbs up. I dedicated miles to my family. And I tricked my cold, cold heart and degenerate brain into believing I was having fun out there — even after my headphones died. In fact, I ran my best miles to the sound of frogs and birds.

Going out slow. I am a sloth. I am a turtle. I am a snail. I am an ancient grandmother sent here, to this marathon, to hobble about with my walker for at least the first 3-5 miles before settling into race pace. That’s apparently what works for me.

Failed It

Emptying bladder pre-race. Okay, I peed like three times in the Holdingford High School girls room, but I guess I was super hydrated because I was very uncomfortable for the first few miles and considered stopping at a port-a-potty. Instead, I just remained patient, zoned out, and, as my sister later described it, “let the pee absorb back into the body.” Ick, but yeah, kind of.

Main Takeaways

Staying chill before the race makes a huge difference
Running conservatively at the start means you save the best for last
Summer strength sessions and progression work this fall are in store to help me target speed in the last 10k
BQ, you will be mine! Oh, yes, you shall be mine

Lake Wobegon: Negative Split Delight