An Unexpected Running Experience: The 2017 Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

Stan Brouillard, Brian Siddons nearing the 5 mile point at Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon.

CK Photograpy, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

An Unexpected Running Experience: The 2017 Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon
By
Brian James Siddons

Having just finished Matt Fitzgerald’s book, “How Bad Do You Want It? The Psychology Of Mind Over Muscle,” I was intrigued by the mental toughness tools used by the world-class athletes Fitzgerald cited, specifically race day focus, as aids to improve my own running performances. Looking back at my BQ (Boston Qualifier) in the fall of 2012, for a spot at the Boston Marathon in 2014, and then missing the revised cut by six seconds, I wondered if my focus had been better, wouldn’t I have run at least seven seconds faster?  

While the stories Fitzgerald recounted were truly inspirational, I realized my quest for sharper mental performances might best be served through the experiences of runners fighting battles for improvements much less daunting than national championships or major marathon titles. Little did I know that within a week of finishing the last chapter, I’d be a participatory eyewitness to dozens of said runners, during the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon, doing their best to show me the way. It would turn out to be my slowest marathon ever, and yet, running alongside my good friend and training partner, Stan, it would be one of the most incredibly positive events in my 40 plus years of running experiences.     

Getting to the starting line of this marathon began innocently enough. Over the years, well decades, of my training, I’ve learned that to fend off injury setbacks it’s extremely important to be patient with our recovery days, not be a patient in recovery! Stan, too, is well-aware of the need to stay healthy. His recent marathon training programs have left him over trained with forced time off, usually at the crucial one month from race day timeline, resulting in slower than normal finishing times. In January, while discussing his most recent marathon crashes, we started talking about getting him back to his previous sub 3:55 finishing times for an attempt at a 60-64 age group BQ in a couple of years. As an alternative to his recent training regimes he agreed to follow a program I would design and guide him through for his next marathon, and then build on the results for his BQ race. Stan, or Laser as we call him due to his laser-like focus, was unsure at first. After a few runs and some table talks about how the training would work, he was all in! We’d take a low-key approach; he’d be slightly undertrained, but 100% healthy with no injury down time. Our race day time goal of a modest 3:59.59, with a secondary goal of 3:54.59, both well within his capabilities, were the foundation for our training paces. The Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon, where he had run his PR of 3:46 in 2013, was the easy choice for our race day effort on May 13, 2017.

Local, rural marathons are a meandering tour through wonderfully quaint places, and Lake Wobegon is right there with the best of them. From the early morning, friendly faces that direct you to catch a bus to the starting line of this point to point course, to each of the volunteers along the way, you are surrounded by great people all morning long. The marathon begins on the Holdingford high school track, and follows a single road for one and a half miles to the Lake Wobegon Trail, where you then run along a paved-over train line to the finish. Leafed out trees shade much of the first half of the course, which then opens up to running through a few small towns, along lakes and in clear view of gentle rolling acreage. The scenic course is very flat, with the exception of one small grade at mile ten that even I don’t mind. Aid stations are handled by helpful locals making time to support the event. With a limit of 450 runners, the participant mix is that of a few runners looking for fast times, others that have heard about what a fantastic event Wobegon is, plenty of return finishers and of course those that are on their maiden marathon trek.

Marathon training is a love affair with the running life. We run with tunnel vision, looking the only direction we can, forward, to the light of race day. The blinders we proudly wear keep us safe from distractions that would otherwise impede the progress we desire, that of inching closer to the escape hatch known as the starting line. We plan, we adjust, we sacrifice, we prepare. We chart our course like a salty ship captain returning to a cluster of islands known for coral reefs, rough seas and unexpected swells. When we break through the trials of training and into the light, race day can be its own master. The best laid plans may need to be discarded when the winds of marathon day rise. Some days we must go where the breeze takes us, for to battle the wind is akin to fighting an invisible enemy you’d never see attack or regroup. You will be left flailing until you fall, overcome by your inability to admit this particular day is not for winning, but for surviving. And sometimes, if you are lucky, I mean really lucky, you are presented with a life changing experience.  

Committing to a new training program is a tough challenge, and Laser did a fantastic job of staying with mine. He would sometimes admit to feeling short on the long run tally, as our longest ended up being 18 versus his normal dose of a few 20 milers. On the interval score, Laser had done an amazing job. In addition to some half-mile and mile repeats, he came through with flying colors on one of our most challenging workout sessions, 2 times 2 miles! We’d warm-up with an easy mile and a half, then run two miles at tempo pace, take a three-minute easy jog interval, then run another two miles at tempo, followed by an easy mile cool down. Laser did this twice on the treadmill before the weather warmed up and we began training outdoors. After a ten-mile race in April, which we did not peak for, we began to back off o the intervals and work on endurance. A couple of weeks into this part of the training, Laser felt that his legs were really getting under him and his trust in the program grew. The tenuous walk along the rail of fitness is a tough balancing act and we were now on our third and most important section of the training program. Laser began to leave the muscle ache of intervals behind and find his endurance, and now I was becoming more confident that we just may have his training program dialed in for race day success.

Early on in training, marathon race day looms on the horizon like a hillside just beyond reach. We move toward it for weeks, when suddenly the marathon is now approaching us! The magnitude of the upcoming event hits hard. Our respect for the distance moves us to self-preservation mode and we begin our taper. With weekly mileage in the 45-55 mile range, we taper only moderately for two weeks. The pace is easier and we begin to allow the feeling of being race-ready to envelop us like a comfortable hoody and pair of sweat-pants after a tough workout. Laser and I had this final part of training set and made only a few minor tweaks, due to his busy schedule of moving his college age kids back home from school. Not the best thing to be doing during taper, but he’s done it before with no ill effects. We did our pre-race planning at this point, and addressed the elephant in the room; pacing for race day. Like so many marathoners, Laser has usually gone out trying to put a few minutes of cushion into the first half of the race, knowing he would tire after 20. This would be my toughest challenge to him; slow the early miles down! After much discussion we agreed, well, he acquiesced to my directive, to run the first six to seven miles at a few seconds slightly slower than race pace, (so as not to fade at the end and give back time in minutes) then run at pace until 20. After that we’d see what he had left for the final 10k. Besides, I reminded him, this was just a test event, a building block for later. He had nothing to lose and possibly a more fitting program to fine tune over the next couple of years. Again, he was all in and I inked the final copy of our race day plan as “Approved!”

Late in the afternoon on Friday, the day before the race, Laser called. He was making sure I had left work early so I had time to rest up before Saturday’s race. He’s such a good guy, and taking time to check on me was cool. Trouble was, he sounded as if he had smoked a pack of cigarettes that morning! His ‘allergy’ that had kicked in a couple of days earlier had gotten much worse. Afterward I said to my wife, Jeanette, that I wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up the next morning unable to speak…which sometimes isn’t a terrible thing, as Laser can be a talker!

Race day morning I received a great wake-up text from Laser, “Let’s run a marathon today!” Game on! I picked him up at 4:16 am and he sounded much better. He had a great attitude and during pre-race prep he showed few signs of any allergy problems. He had by-passed using over-the-counter meds for fear of dehydration or any other ill effects, but had doubled up on his Nettie-pot use to clear his airways!

Once we had picked up our race number, we did the normal pre-race routines; pinned our numbers onto our shirts, felt excited/nervous and chatted with fellow runners. We made sure that plenty of Vaseline was lubed in all the right places, Lasers’ water belt was filled and my GU packs were slid into the pockets of my shorts. Check list complete! The race began right on time at 7:00 am and we passed over the start line chip mat a few seconds later, taking a three-quarter lap on the high school track. As we moved along at 9:06 pace, Laser was almost giddy at how slow and comfortable the pace was. I was glad to see him rested and ready. 

 2017 Start of the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

Marathon day is the celebration of a runners’ long-term investment of putting ‘Miles in the bank,’ to be ready for a major withdraw on race day. You can’t fake a marathon, and there are penalties for not investing enough or making poor decisions, such as going out too fast. Investments, however, are never guaranteed, and at the last moment you may need to adjust your portfolio. Being fit for race day is one part rest, one part eating right, and one part staying away from anything that will strain a muscle or get you sick. Some of these are in your control, some are not. And some, unfortunately, get through all your defenses to greet you on race day. Thus was the case for my star pupil, Laser, at this year’s Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon.

It wasn’t until we made it all the way to say, oh, mile two, that I began to feel something was awry with Laser. He had gotten quite already, and there was something about his gait that seemed off. After six years of running alongside someone, it can be easy to notice even a slight change. I kept a close eye on my Garmin and decided to err on the side of an even slower than planned pace. If his allergy had been more than a reaction to pollen, be it a cold or virus, I didn’t want him to use any more energy than needed as he warmed-up during the first half-dozen miles or so. As we slid to 9:14 pace during the third and fourth miles, Laser made a couple of comments about “not feeling it yet”, and getting just a bit grumpy. It was at this point that he admitted to not sleeping well the past few days, having no appetite and in general feeling run down. He wouldn’t let himself think he was getting sick, it had to be allergies. Laser is one of the nicest guys I know, and one of the hardest on himself. He will gut out a training run on the toughest of days, be it 30 mile per hour snowstorms or 100’ summer heat. Laser won’t quit, and today, unbeknownst to us, would turn out to be his most arduous race-day test yet.

Local marathons with just a few hundred participants have a way of becoming a close-knit community of heartfelt supporters in a way larger events can’t replicate. It’s just more intimate, and you remember each other easier as you play leap frog throughout the race. Early on it was Bladder Pack gal and guy, Vegas gal, Gatorade’s in the shorts guy, and others. Around mile seven Laser and I noticed ‘Headache guy’. He was walking on the side of the trail, looking as if a migraine was getting the best of him, but he was still moving. The other runners were a good distraction, but they couldn’t hide the fact we had lost sight of the 3:57 pace group so soon. After testing the waters of Laser’s condition for seven miles, I finally asked him to take the lead at mile eight. The next 12 miles were to be his section of the race and we had to make a move. Our plan was for him to find his groove and get us to the 20-mile point, where I would then take the rein and run us in. He lasted about a half mile at nine-minute pace, slowed markedly, and began the internal fight against the mindset of defeat. 

Bladder Pack Guy and Gal, nearing the 5 mile point.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

Our celebration of race day was not going as planned. The culmination of Laser’s investments; the miles run, the early morning workouts, the change in eating habits, some tough intervals and the steady long runs were now just useless weights upon his shoulders. Where were the wings he had earned to carry him along to the finish?  At mile nine we began the conversation that was staring back at us every moment we looked at our Garmin’s; What’s our new plan?

Once a burden is laden upon you, while it’s tough to carry, it can be even harder to accept the situation and let it fall away with your expectations. With Laser’s hard-nosed desire to at least break 4 hours, and our sub goal of crossing under 3:55, admitting we wouldn’t be close was becoming not only frustrating, but debilitating. The mind wanders to many places and is easily discouraged. You question everything about your training, your preparation and then complain about how unfair it is that you got sick just a couple of days ago. Yet amid all this we begin to see the signs of others struggling. We pass Headache guy again, this time around mile 12, not realizing he had passed us. Laser and I talk again about how badly that guy must be hurting, and it eases Laser’s burden slightly seeing someone else battling rough patches that seemed to come more frequently, and fiercely, as miles were added to our legs.

Continuing down the trail, we talk more seriously about letting go of our time goals. This reconciliation would take another few miles for Laser to agree that today would be a finish goal only, no time stamp to worry about. Just when I thought we were on the cusp of re-charting our way to the finish line, I realized my work was just beginning as our day came dangerously close to an abrupt end at the 14-mile point.

If you’ve ever experienced someone losing contact with their surroundings, especially during an athletic event, you know things can change in an instant. Tracking Laser, I realized he was showing signs of overall fatigue that went beyond being tired. He was unknowingly weaving from side to side on the trail, his comments were sparse and not on point to the topic. His pace was very erratic. He easily overheats, and I began pouring water on him to cool him down. “Let’s run to that shade spot and then walk again,” I suggested. He stopped the instant he hit the shade, and it was then I noticed his eyes wandering, his body swaying. “Laser, what day is it?” I asked. It caught him off guard and he faltered, both physically and emotionally. At just past the 14-mile point Laser was out of fuel, and mentally off course. He hesitated, then with stumbled verbiage found the words to give me the right answer, albeit with a raw, humbled emotion I had not seen from him before. It was a tough couple of minutes down in that valley of doubt many runners have experienced. Walls crash down and yet there’s always at least one path for a slow climb up. And that’s what he did. Laser became characteristically focused and stated undeniably that he would make it to the finish line, walking the whole way if that’s what it would take. He most certainly knew what day it was now!

Laser was back, but I let him know that I’d do all I could to get him off the course if he faltered as he had at mile 14. From that point on we walked when needed, he drank more fluids than he ever had, and downed extra gel (warm gel late in a race is not a runner’s first choice, but he did it) to keep himself hydrated and nourished. It was at this point he finally let the finishing time burden slide off his shoulders, giving him a better outlook on the day. It was what it was. We were burning the chart and setting sail with the wind, not against it. We talked to more runners as we repeatedly passed and got passed. We made time at the aid stations to re-fill his bottles and get some of the snacks they offered later in the race. We bantered with each other as if on a long training run.

Our discussion topics ranged from running to kids, to work, to life goals. Heck, we had plenty of time and at this point everything was on    the table to talk about. It’s amazing how bare you can lay your soul on a long run with a good friend. We were cleansing our physical bodies mile after mile, and our emotional selves, topic after topic. That’s when Laser peeled back a whole lotta layers and laid out the core of his motivation. Growing up, when he had a tough task ahead or decided to go after a goal, he was told he’d never get it done, never accomplish anything, so don’t even try. The classic, “You’ll never amount to anything” rang in his ears and pierced his heart. He did his best to try and please a father that had little compassion, but it wasn’t until years later that Laser would figure out his father was the lost soul. After that epiphany, Laser worked for what he wanted until he got it, and he has applied the same mentality to running. Be it a tough training day, hard intervals, or long training runs, he would prove his self-worth and accomplish his goals. His words gave me insight to his overtraining and his disappointment when he didn’t meet self-imposed expectations. I realized he still carries a few splinters from the cross he bore as a youth, but don’t we all? If part of the ache in our hearts comes from a place so deep that, even to our physical detriment, we will do whatever it takes to finish, to succeed, to meet the goals that make us happy, how can we not keep running forward?     

With ten miles to go, the comradery between runners at the five to six-hour pace grows stronger with each step. By this point you’ve seen each other a few times on the course, stopped at aid stations at the same time, and heard each other talk to running mates or supporters along the way. For example, the two sisters. One was running, and the other would stop at different points and provide encouragement. It was great to see, and gave us something to ask about when we ran alongside each other a couple of times.

Marathon Sister nearing the finish line.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

There was also the 70-74 guy. We must have passed each other a half-dozen times, exchanging words of support to each other. When we asked how many marathons he had run, he said “This is my first one…today.” It gave us a good laugh!

70-74 Guy coming through the covered bridge.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

With the wide variety of runners I was seeing, I began to realize this was my opportunity to take off my tunnel vision blinders and get a much broader view of what it takes to focus and fight through racing struggles. It’s not about the pace, breaking through comes from a much deeper place. I saw five-hour finishers focused on the task at hand in a way that would equal any race winner. Men and women, young and old. Heads up, and heads being barely lifted. Bodies moving with little sway, and bodies bent at odd angles. Here I was with my running brother as he fought for every step just to run his worst time ever, on the same course he had set his PR, and these folks were doing all they could to set a PR, or at least have a good day. These were the regular runners I wanted to hear about! 

There are certain points along the Lake Wobegon Marathon course that stand out. One of them is the 18-mile point, located in the small town of Avon. It’s a landmark Laser enjoys for three reasons. First, it’s 18 miles! Yeah for that! Second, there are plenty of volunteers to help with filling water bottles and to hand out fluids. Third, it’s a very easy point of access to the course for spectators, so there’s always a nice cheering section about a half mile long. It’s a shot in the arm as you emerge from the isolation of the trail, get pumped up, and then head back out to the quiet and begin to concentrate on getting to 20. Laser had rebounded and was running fairly steady as we came into Avon. We took full advantage of the aid station and the volunteers were awesome. I spotted a sponge so I grabbed that to carry and occasionally cool Laser down, as the temp had snuck up to the low 70’s with no cloud cover. Runners were showing the classic signs of heat fatigue, and with Laser’s propensity to sweat on even the coldest of days, I would do all I could to rain water his way. The sponge, and for a while a small towel that I eventually handed off to another runner, would be in my possession to the finish.

Small victories are priceless in a marathon, and on this day, we’d take every one we could get. A couple of our best miles were from just before 19 to nearly 21. I had stopped to take a quick pee break, and as I came out I tagged along with a guy we had seen running earlier with his wife. Laser had continued running during my break, and as is his habit he would keep up a slightly faster pace until I caught him. It’s a game he plays when he trains. Laser dislikes stopping on runs, so if someone needs a quick break for the bathroom, or, heaven forbid we stop at a traffic signal, he continues on. Even in his exhausted state, there he was, trucking down the trail, totally focused, looking like he was just out on a regular training run. The guy I was running with told me his wife had run ahead of him. He said they were looking for a race to run together and although he was more of a sprinter and she a distance runner, they comprised and choose the Lake Wobegon Marathon. Smart husband. Over the course of a half mile or so we caught up to Laser. Sprint guy ran a few strides with us, more like shuffles, and then said he was going to try and catch up to his wife.

Sprinter Guy and Distance Gal nearing the finish line.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

Laser was ready for another walk break, so we looked for some shade and walked toward a stretch just ahead. Grey Shirt guy, another of the leap frog group, passed us again. He was doing well, keeping his own pace, sharing encouraging words with us. His wife, Concordia gal, would meet him at most of the aid stations and easy access spots along the course, typical of what we saw all day long. There’s something about a marathon that brings out the best in spectators and fellow runners, especially during the later stages of the race. Seeing fresh faces and listening to the high spirits at the start, spectators that follow the race and continue their support are invaluable to a struggling runner. Spectators bear witness to the steady decline of both physical stature and emotional well-being that 26.2 miles heaps upon a participant. “Looking good” is great cheer for about eight miles, but after that it’s a small fib for at least the next ten. After that we know they are lying, but we not only forgive them, we hang on to the belief that maybe we really don’t look like wandering zombies searching for our next meal.

“It’s like running from the five-mile bench, Laser,” I said, referring to a landmark we use on one of our common routes. We had now passed the 21-mile marker and could picture the last few miles in a perspective he could envision. “We’re doing this!” I added. 

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Laser replied, and we started running again.

It was right around this point that we noticed Headache guy again. He was just in front of us, walking. As we came up to him I asked him a simple question, “You want to run with us for a while?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a try.” 

And that’s how we met the guy that blew the blinders completely off our tunnel vision. Yes, we had gone full circle with the race up to that point, and Laser had allowed himself to be comfortable with just finishing the marathon. We had started with solid expectations, sunk deep into the ravine of regret, and then clawed and climbed up to the road again, heading to the finish. We still had over four miles to go, and anything could have happened to Laser in that span. Thankfully, Don happened.

 Don approaching mile five.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

It was hot, Laser had been giving all he could for miles, and we still had, at our pace, 40 to 50 minutes to go. I had us pegged for a 5:30 finish at one point, but Laser was making up time and we’d be under that, for sure. We had seen Don struggling at various points in the race, and, wanting to get an idea of his plans for the next few miles, I asked him, “So, it looks like you’ve been having a tough day. Are you having migraines or allergies?”

If that’s all it had been. 

That tunnel vision I had for racing my next marathon, that feeling of lust I get when trying to coax a few seconds from each mile I race, that disappointment I had after a good race that I wanted to be great? Yeah, I’ll be tossing that out with the garbage after running with Don for those last few miles. It’s not that he’s a saint, he’s just a guy that wants to run and race like he used to, but after a couple of recent concussions he’s had to let go of his burden of not being able to run after this race. And by this race, I mean his 60^th marathon. At age 43. Oh, and he won this event in 2011 with a finishing time of 2:48. 

“Actually, it’s vertigo,” Don said.

The next couple of miles, even at 12-minute pace, flew by as we talked about his background. Ten years ago, he was 230 pounds of inactivity until his brother got him to sign up for a 10k. Although more of a walk, the running bug had begun to infect Don. Slowly the training miles piled up, and then the racing began. Within two years of running, Don had a 3:31 marathon to his credit. Nice debut! The time drops continued until 2011, when he won the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon. Along the way he dove into the running community by leading pace groups at different distances, including the marathon, which helped him add to his finish total without stressing his body too much. He volunteered at events and mentored other runners. Here was a guy getting it done and giving back in a big way. 

“I’ve had a couple of serious concussions in the past few years. The vertigo has made it tough to run.” Well, if you call headaches, dizziness, throwing up and falling down tough, yeah, I’d agree.

“Was that your wife helping you out at some of the aid stations?” I asked. 

“No. I think she said she’s a nurse and she saw I wasn’t having such a good day and she just helped me out.” Her name turned out the be Diane, and she is a nurse. (Don would meet her via Facebook after the race). While watching the race, Diane saw Don was not doing well. Her instincts kicked in and she made sure his aid station stops included plenty of fluids. They had never met, but, as Laser and I have done, she made a bond with Don that will last many years. 

As Don related his running background, Laser and I looked at each other as the realization that things can always be worse had materialized right in beside us. It was a wake-up call at just the right time for Laser. At somewhere between 23 and 24 miles Laser was running even lower on energy. His muscles were toast and only his sheer will was getting him from mile marker to mile marker. Hearing Don explain his challenges and then seeing him holding his head to stay on the course, and at one point falling to one knee, was more than what Laser needed to keep going. This wasn’t a race anymore, it was escorting a fellow runner for the last few miles of what may be his last marathon, if not his last race. 

Not far after the 24-mile marker we stopped for a walk break. It may seem crazy to most, but these breaks were very necessary. Two women runners offered us a cup of ice and a Nunn tablet, and Don gained some much-needed electrolytes. The generosity of fellow runners and spectators never wavered! We drank up and then began running once more.

Ice Gals nearing the finish line.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

My biggest challenge during the last few miles was to monitor my two co-runners. Laser was a little quieter and I knew he was in his zone, concentrating on getting to the finish. He was staying steady and only a couple of times did I need to pull him back on the trail, mainly when we were walking or getting water at an aid station. Same for Don, although he wobbled a bit more. If I had felt either one was in danger I would have immediately asked a fellow runner or spectator for help, but these guys were keeping hydrated, answering questions and staying alert. I knew they would make the finish safely, but they’d be totally spent.

“Hey, guys, there’s the 25-mile marker!” I said. “Let’s get there and then walk that shade part on the trail.” We crept up to the marker and began a short walk in the shade. I could nearly read their minds, knowing they had only a mile point two to go, their heads were already seeing the finish line.

“Let’s knock out the final mile without stopping,” Don said. “We can do this.”

“I’m in!” Laser replied.

We ran silently for most of the last mile, three abreast. The pace was slow enough to be able to make the last mile, but at a slightly faster pace than what we had been running…a little pride was breaking through as we made our way down the straight, flat stretch toward our destination.

About three-quarters of a mile out you can pick up the red finish arch. A half-mile out you can see the balloons and hear the crowd. Our steps fell yet a bit faster, our heads held a little higher. Laser and Don had waged a fierce battle on this day and they had full rights to run proudly in at 5:14.44.

Approaching the Finish Line; Stan Brouillard, Don Sullivan, Brian Siddons

Photo via CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

Three steps over the finish line Don faded to the grass on the right and collapsed on all fours. Race staff, most of whom knew Don well, were there in a matter of seconds, and he was in the med-tent within a minute. I’ve never had vertigo but have seen people incapacitated from its effects. Don had resigned himself to walking the last five miles, yet he gutted it out, like the champion he is, and ran in with us. About 20 minutes later I found out from the race director that Don’s friends had taken him to the local hospital for an IV treatment to try and get the vertigo in line. Dang, that was one tough finish!

Don Sullivan gave everything he had to cross the finish line. 

Photo via CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

Laser had headed to the left side of the finish area, completely gassed from the race. His effort was clearly the most work I had ever seen him put out during a marathon. I told him how well he had done and what a great accomplishment today’s race had been. As we talked over the next half hour, I enjoyed hearing his description of how the race had turned into a very positive event. Laser’s empathy for the other runners was bursting from his heart, especially for Don and the struggles he had overcome and would face in the future. While not pleased with his own finishing time, Laser welcomed his place with the other back of the pack finishers that had dug deep and worked through the toughest of days not only physically, but had beat back the mental challenges they all faced. It was a tremendous boost to his confidence, and I was sure these feeling would grow and strengthen within him as we looked back on this day during future runs.

We sat and watched Grey Shirt guy finish, and 70-74 guy, too. Some of the other leap-froggers that had finished before us came by to see how we were doing, and we asked how their day ended up. Between the pizza, cookies, Gatorade and treats, the conversations were leading Laser and I to a great conclusion.

Grey Shirt Guy nearing the finish line.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

This may have been one of our favorite marathons, ever. The multitude of mental battles, including Laser’s and Don’s, that had raged all around me during the event, right up to the final steps over the finish line, were just the scenarios I was looking for after reading Fitzgerald’s’ book. I had been looking with tunnel vision for a sharper mental edge and was quietly presented with that gift, and more, by runners so full of heart it was impossible not to become a fan of each and every one of them.   

Suddenly, I was taken aback by the latest announcement over the finish line speakers. It was something I had never heard at a marathon.

“Less than two minutes to get in! Come on, runner!” As the race clock was counting down (or is it up?) to the six-hour cut-off time, the announcer let everyone know there was one runner coming down the trail that would be close to making the cut-off. But he’d have to earn it!

Hearing this, spectators began to fill in the finish chute area on both sides of the trail. Weary runners ambled over, the Girl Scouts from one of the last aid stations came with big smiles and cheers, as did others that had done volunteer work for the race that morning.

“Sixty seconds to go!” came the update.

With the long straight-away of the marathon trail, you could see that Last guy was doing his best to make the time cut, laying down the fastest pace he could muster. The crowd, although small, was doing their best ‘Here comes a winner!’ cheer for a guy they had never met. No matter, it’s what runners and friends of runners do. We support each other through thick and thin, on good days and not so good days.

Last Guy nearing the finish. I can see Stan's hand on the right side of the photo, right next to the blue bill of my hat.

Photo by CK Photography, Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

As I was standing there, watching Last guy near the finish, (and eventually crossing the line with 48 seconds to spare) I catch sight of Laser. He had limped over to the finish area, pulled in by the drama unfolding before us, his hands clapping wildly and his voice cheering loudly, for a guy he didn’t know, but now, more than ever, certainly understands. My running brother had the marathon experience of his life today, and I couldn’t be more proud of him!