Marathon #7 - Paavo

Since Husband can't do the Twin Cities Marathon this fall, we looked for another option to keep him in training. We settled on the Paavo Nurmi Marathon in Hurley, Wisconsin. After reading its rousing history, how could we not?

"The cream of the Midwest distance runners traditionally join forces with hundreds of novice and veteran marathoners for the running of 'The Paavo,'" claims the website. "The marathon enjoyed its zenith in the mid-1970's, when over 1,100 runners would take to the course. As the national craze in distance running faded by the 1980s, so did the interest in the Paavo as marathon. But the machine that drives the Paavo kept going, and while marathons around the nation ceased to run, the Paavo kept churning away, mile after mile, year after year.

The marathon's namesake was the winner of nine Olympic gold medals, the greatest Finnish runner in that nation's history. The name reflects the Finnish nature of the Hurley area.

Husband and I counted ourselves one of the "hundreds of novice marathoners," as was evident at the starting line, when a friend pointed out that I had a shot at winning my age group. He was right: there were just five of us younger women. Tough old men ruled.

I hadn't prepared for the race, training up to only 16 miles with my Twin Cities marathon group. I was wavering between the dream of going for the PR in anonymity (there's something about running a race without having people know about it or watch me that I like sometimes) or having a good ol' fun run. Running buddy AP had been talking about "soul running" lately... running how you feel and not looking at your watch... so I decided to take her advice and commit to good spirits.

Husband and I kept together for the requisite 13 miles, enjoying the scenery as we ran through a series of cute town and gorgeous range country wilderness, enjoying the company of other runners, and me calling out "Too fast!" when Husband unknowingly sped up to 8:20s. We separated to within eyesight after that, trudging through some of the hardest miles psychologically, 18-22.

We met up again at 23, and boy was I glad to finally catch up with him. "We'll take it in easy, run it in together," I thought. "How fitting for our 6th anniversary." As it happens at this point of the race, our paces weren't quite the same, and it becomes crucial to run and walk according to your own schedule. So we separated again without explanation

Mile 24.5-25.5 were uphill, the "Cemetery Hill" the veterans had talked about with understated Midwestern stoicism on the bus ride to the start. I decided that running the hills was at odds with my commitment to have fun, so I walked up them smiling at the cars driving by and imaging an invisible sign on myself, "Saving myself for Twin Cities!"

As lighthearted as I make these recaps, I should admit that I also have a deep fear of descending into ambulance-land again. At this point in the race it becomes really important for me to feel that I don't have to push it, that I should tail but not pass the person in front of me, that I shouldn't hurt.

I picked it up again as the hill leveled off, and soon saw a sign for mile 26. I knew I could certainly run it in from here, so I kicked it in and turned onto the main street. And this is why you do small marathons: It was just me, and a few blocks lined with spectators until the finish line. I busted it out in a big ol' sprint with people cheering just for me and the announcer calling my name and time--the greatest feeling in the world. Especially when I saw the clock, which to my surprise, told me I'd taken yet another few minutes off my PR time -- 4:12 and change.

Husband sprinted it in a few minutes later and we celebrated, picking up our bright orange shirts and medals ("I finished the Paavo" boasts the sparkley orange ribbon, perhaps the best medal ever). It was a great end to a great vacation, and a wonderful way to celebrate our 6th anniversary.