2009 Twin Cities Marathon

11. Twin Cities Marathon – St. Paul, Minn. – Oct. 4, 2009

I’ll always respect 26.2 miles. But every once in a while, the marathon can be flat out fun. Growing up, I spent a few summers and holidays in Minnesota with the Sohlbergs, good family friends. Pam and Dag Sohlberg have always treated me like part of the family, and they were kind enough to invite me and my buddy Wayne Cousineau to stay with them during marathon weekend. On top of that, Dag insisted on cooking pasta the night before and driving us to the start and from the finish (possibly the only potential downside to this race is trying to figure out transportation between the start and the finish).

Just add pasta sauce

The night before the race, Dag told us to make ourselves comfortable as he cooked and we caught up. In the middle of a nice conversation, Dag furrowed his brow and asked, “Pam, did you get a special kind of sausage?” It seems that she had gone to a specialty, organic-type grocery store and grabbed the first package of sausage she’d seen. As it turned out, it was blueberry sausage. Needless to say, that’s not ideal when you’re planning to add it to spaghetti sauce, but all of us – including their daughter Kari – couldn’t stop laughing about it the rest of the night. Instead of adding it to the sauce, Dag put it in a separate dish, and all of us gave it a try with our pasta anyway. I wouldn’t call it great, but it probably would have been pretty good with pancakes. I mentioned to Wayne that if he got a PR in the race the next day, he was going to have to eat blueberry sausage before every race in the future.

Dag dropped us off near the Metrodome, and Wayne and I met up with some friends from Runner’s Edge of the Rockies inside. At most races, everyone seems to be doing everything in their power to stay warm, while waiting outside for an hour or two. It’s amazing how much that opening up an area everyone can stay warm and use the restroom improves a race experience. Finally, it was race time, so Wayne and I headed out to the starting corral – another small detail that makes a race considerably better for all the runners. The course weaves through downtown Minneapolis before shooting around a few of the state’s 10,000 lakes. Wayne is one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met, and the two of us were running stride for stride while laughing constantly. When we hit the halfway marker, we both kind of looked at each other and asked, “Have we really gone 13 miles?” It had gone really quickly, and we were both still feeling really good.

The course is beautiful, and the people of the Twin Cities do a phenomenal job of supporting the runners. There is even one guy that sits on the side of the road playing his saxophone every year. We were told later that it was Alan Page, the former Purple People Eater from the Vikings and Minnesota Supreme Court judge. Apparently, he only knows three songs, but we didn’t stick around long enough to hear more than one anyway. At another point, a woman dressed as a pumpkin ran by. I told Wayne that I had just read the Runner’s World Rules of Running, and it says that no matter what happens, you should never lose to a costumed runner. The woman overheard me and started laughing. That’s when I noticed the Iron Man tattoo on her calf. She turned her head and said with a laugh, “I’m just out for a jog. This race doesn’t even have the swim or bike ride.” Guess maybe I shouldn’t have thrown that gauntlet down.

Wayne Cousineau and I postrace

Around Mile 16, the race heads up the west side of the Mississippi River, and it was at this point that I needed to make a pit stop and wished Wayne good luck. We crossed the river and ran back down the other side, where there was a gigantic, inflatable “wall” at Mile 20. It seems like the organizers wanted to celebrate and make fun of the point in the race when so many runners hit the point of exhaustion. For me, seeing it reminded me of where I was, and subconsciously I felt the previous 20 miles. We cut up through Mary University and along a tree-lined boulevard toward St. Paul. Wayne and I had driven the course the day before, and this uphill did not seem like anything at all. During the race, however, the uphill hit me pretty hard. I took a couple of walk breaks and then I heard, “Look. There’s a running pumpkin.” Damnit. I couldn’t lose to her.

I hit the 25^th mile, where the course hits a curve at an old church and then winds down toward the finish line at the state capitol. The weather had been absolutely perfect until this point, when it started raining. That was ok. In fact, it was kind of refreshing. I beat the pumpkin, albeit just barely, coming in at a respectable 3:37. Wayne met me at the finish. He indeed shattered his previous personal best, so I guess he’ll have to eat blueberry sausage before every race. It couldn’t hurt.