When I told my friend
Tasha that Nels, without my permission, signed me up for a half-marathon (while
he ran the full) in Millinocket, Maine in December, she said, “You tell Nels
you’ve had a good run together for 25 years, but that’s grounds for
divorce.”
Of course she was
kidding. However, as I plowed uphill on snowy footing that felt like
running on a beach with 19 degree wind biting my face, I contemplated her
recommendation.
I wore four layers and
yet was sure my frozen pinkies would fall off only to be found by an intrepid
moose seeking protein to add to his herbivore diet. Since the first half
of the race was uphill and on difficult terrain, I felt no shame in walking with
many of my racing sisters and brothers.
A man in a banana suit trotted ahead, beyond my reach. I suppose it is
an existential question: are you really racing if you’re walking, the water
stops all have shots of Fireball, Kahlua, and/or McGillicuddy's, and you can’t catch a banana?
While I didn’t imbibe
(some Rhode Runners would be ashamed of this choice) for fear that I would lose whatever
mojo I had left, it was fun to see runners enjoying the spirits, as it
were. At the starting line, I had asked some locals how they were able to
deal with living in such a cold place, and provided a possible list: was it
snow sports like skiing or perhaps sitting by a warm fire? No, they replied. We
like to drink. Things were starting to make sense.
During the second half
of the course, my attitude perked up: pavement appeared and we turned
downhill. When you see signs like “Snotcicles are sexy” and “Speed
limit...slow” and “I just farted, run faster,” who wouldn’t be encouraged?
Lightheartedness was prized over competitiveness, and the residents cheered us
on with the aforementioned alcohol, accompanied by everything from hot dogs to
bacon cheeseburgers to cookies. My speed went from glacial to merely slothful. I finally saw the guy in the banana suit
again, and decided my goal was to beat him. However, when he stopped for
selfies and shots of maple syrup at mile 12, my victory rang hollow.
It wasn’t until I
changed my clothes and came back to the finish line to pick up what would be
left of Nels (the full was two loops of this challenging course), that I
realized something important. Sure, marathoners were finishing, but there were
also groups of 3-4 people in half-marathon bibs straggling along, brightly
smiling. Apparently, some smart and enterprising folks figured out that this is
an opportunity for an outdoor pub crawl, and they walk the entire course doing
shots along the way.
And then I saw Nels
looking reasonably strong as he ran the last several hundred yards. I ran with
him carrying two muffins given to me by a student group that was closing up
shop. He finished with dignity and then tried to get into the backseat of the
Equinox, which took about 10 minutes. Luckily I’m patient and had those muffins
to eat.
1273 people ran the half
marathon and 186 ran the full (several finished in the dark--which shows their
tenacity or insanity, I’m not sure which). This was definitely the
hardest race we have ever done, and yet it was also the friendliest with the best
run support. Do I recommend other
runners try it? Yes, but definitely try to stay in town or plan to spend
time there to shop, eat, and drink local. The race is free and the whole town
turns out to support the runners. The dedication, planning, and sheer
goodheartedness made the brutal conditions worthwhile if not exactly
enjoyable. Will I run this again?
Maybe if that guy lends me his banana suit.
