Grandma’s Marathon Race Report

Race Date: Saturday, June 20, 2026 – 7:45am

Around 7:45am under bluebird skies, a race announcer finished their countdown through numerous blaring loudspeakers, which started Corral A for the 50th Annual Grandma’s Marathon. I watched the whole ordeal from 250 feet away in a bathroom line. I dramatically looked down at my bib to reconfirm I was indeed in Corral A. I waited, though, did my business, ran straight down to the start line and crossed essentially by myself, road practically wide open compared to normal race starts here. But this was no normal Grandma’s Marathon.

It all started 8 months prior, on the widely anticipated first day of race registration. I was so pumped on running at that time – feeling solid at the NMTC fall trail race series, on my way to the Ella Fennessy Award (attending all NMTC events – spring, summer, fall), gearing up for Wild Duluth a couple weeks away. However, I felt like all my priority events for the whole year of 2025 were lackluster. Grandma’s 3:09, Voyageur 50 Mile 9:32, Superior 26:19. They were respectable times, not easy races, but I felt like my potential in training was simply not met. Studies show that redemption is one of the top reasons people sign up for races. By the time January rolled around, I was in for the 2026 Grandma’s, Voyageur and Superior 100, a duplicate season.

The training cycle leading up to Grandma’s was one of the most emotional of my running career. I felt conflicted from day 1. I knew what it took to run a fast marathon. It’s such a commitment. But the rewards are immense. That fast marathon fitness is so versatile. Wanna run a fast 5k? Train for a marathon. Wanna go hard at a 50 miler? Train for a marathon, add in some back-to-back long runs. Mash for 6 hours on the gravel bike? You know what it is. Wanna run a PR marathon? Well, you can’t really fake it or sidestep the process. Why would I delegate that much time? How? I felt like I had so many other things to focus on in my life besides getting super fit. But it’s so fun! But it’s so hard. On January 1st, I drafted a plan for the first 13 weeks of the year until the end of March (because that’s how many weeks fit within the single-page grid I printed).

I never thought I could touch my PR of 2:48 from 2015, but I was excited to go under 3 hours. I was confident the training plan that I was scheming up could get me there. The 10% increase method hadn’t failed me yet, and so that was the basis of the first phase. And I absolutely crushed it. From humble week-to-week increases of 20 to 22 miles, to getting up over 70 miles late in March, my body seemed to be responding very well to steady jogging and the weekly long run. In the cold depths of winter, I happily rewarded myself after each long run on the lakewalk with a hot epsom salt bath.

I cut the build phase short after getting to about 70 miles in a week and gave myself a down week, eager to transition to a speed focus. I was a little confused about how to formulate the next plan, but the general idea was to sprinkle in speed work and intensity. I started by filling in races. After a confidence-boosting build phase, I was extremely amped for the NMTC Spring Trail Race series. Those would be my Wednesday workouts. I was very excited for the Fitger’s 5k and dreamed about going under 17 minutes again. It had been a while. I figured I’d keep the Saturday 20 miler but build race pace work into my long run. I didn’t think I needed to push risky monster mileage and figured 50 miles per week, give or take, would be optimal. To get there, I filled the rest in with easy daily mileage plus running club mileage (6 miles each on Mondays with WURD [Washed Up Runners of Duluth] and Thursday with Hoops Running Club). And just like that, I had my plan set all the way to the Grandma’s Marathon. It seemed far away. It seemed achievable and effective. I treated myself for finishing the first phase and starting the second phase by buying an exotic-looking, unbelievably expensive pair of carbon plated supershoes.

Early April, as I transitioned into the first few weeks of my speed plan, went well. I did a few excellent workouts with WURD, the long runs were a little hit and miss, as were my strength sessions, but my body felt awesome. I just kind of materialized a goal race pace of 6:30 and tried to run that pace in the middle of my Saturday 20 milers, starting with just a couple miles with the plan to build to double-digits at the race pace. I found that one mile at that pace was hard. Two was harder but doable, but three was pretty much not possible without really pushing hard. I was not willing to push really hard in the middle of a 20 miler. It can’t feel that hard if I expected to run 26- 6:30 miles. Fitger’s 5k was frankly a let-down. My brother Andrew was signed up to race, as well as several other local friends that I’d be training hard with. My long-time running rival Liam was there and we started out hot. I kind of faded around mile 3 with Andrew and Liam right there besides me, and watched them slowly run away from me. I just watched, no response, no urgency, no grit. My finish time of 17:48 was quite a bit slower than I had hoped, and I felt like the main reason I didn’t nail it was purely mental.

It was all a little concerning, like a chink in the armor, and I questioned dialing back my goal pace to a 3-hour flat pace or something. 6:30 per mile sounded so appealing, and I loved the idea of a 2:52 finish time. Therefore, I just kept forging forward by putting complete trust in the volume of work I’d banked and the excellent training to come. Into late-April, with 14 miles easy/6 miles at marathon pace on the line, I set out to test my new carbon shoes. I did a 6 mile warm-up in my regular trainers, switched shoes and ran another 2 miles, then nailed 6 miles at 6:30 pace. It felt much easier that previous attempts, and I actually hit the pace every single mile, which didn’t happen on any other long run/race pace combo workouts. I ran the last 7 miles easy in my supershoes, totally jacked up and excited. NMTC started the next week. So jacked.

How great is the last Wednesday of April with NMTC starting and Homegrown Music Festival on the same day? So good! That first race was a little bit slower than I hoped, and I definitely noticed a strain in my hamstrings towards the end of the 4.5 mile race at Bear Creek in Superior, WI. My right hamstring up by my buttcheeck specifically got suddenly sore and achey and I kind of limped in the last half mile with an altered stride. The cooldown run was very slow. Both hamstrings were sore the next day at Hoops Running Club, and I noticed my leg swing was fairly altered to accommodate the soreness and pain. Homegrown was a weird week. I felt simultaneously closely connected to innumerable friends and my family, and also very alone. I experienced a panic attack, stayed out way too late and got probably too fucked up on Friday night, then barely dragged my sorry ass out of bed after 2:15pm on Saturday. How am I supposed to train here? I forced myself out of the door, making a deal that I’d go for a long run as long as it was on the Superior Hiking Trail at Normanna Road and I could go slow. I’d been almost exclusively running on the lakewalk for months and months. I needed this, I told myself as I drove out. My hamstrings were still tight but I didn’t have to push anything and even walked up a few little hills once I started rolling on the trail. In fact, it felt kind of good to stretch my legs out and run on flowy sections of trail. It was perfect out. The run was going fine until I ran into some major downed trees and got frustrated having to go up, under and around all types of sharp and poking branches. I got to the Sucker River snowmobile trail bridge and shelter, where I had slept for a few hours during an extreme thunderstorm while thru-hiking the SHT in 2016. 10 years prior. Sheesh. I wanted to get to 90 minutes out then turn around. Gah, I felt so spent at 1:16. I walked with my head down to try and run out the clock a little. Then I heard a deer or something in the woods near the shelter. Nope, a glistening shirtless runner. Nope, well yep – it was Matt Livingston, my friend who just happened to pop out of the woods as I was feeling most defeated and sad-walking. I asked him with puppy dog eyes if I could run back with him and he said he’d be honored. He pulled me along for a while and it was extremely helpful. If I didn’t run into Matt, I might still be out there in the woods. After an hour running with Matt, with 3 miles left, I just couldn’t hang any longer and let him go. I started walking. Then walking very slowly. Then I sat down. I was just totally depleted, defeated. What the heck? 10 miles? Can’t hack it? I got home to cut my Homegrown wristband off, skipped all the shows I wanted to see that night, and was back into bed by 7:45pm. The next Wednesday, in a crowded start at NMTC, I felt like my hamstrings were not right. I felt like I shouldn’t race. You shouldn’t be here, I told myself. But outwardly, chatting with friends nearby, to the last second, I couldn’t fully give it up. I asked Chelsea if I could pace off her, while simultaneously telling myself I should run it hard. With Jarrow’s always-rapid “3-2-1 GO!!” start I didn’t have a choice, and launched forward with the crowd. 10 steps in, I painfully tweaked my right hamstring. 10 more steps, I had the slightest misstep on a leaf, a slight form deviation, and felt a twinge surge from my right hamstring by my butt. My hamstrings were deteriorating, one string at a time! A wave of runners surpassed me. I slowed progressively, limp increasing, and mindset deteriorating all throughout the race. It was the longest 25 minutes ever. With just one string each remaining in my hamstrings, I crossed the finish and was handed the “51” card. I knew I was officially injured and almost cried. I stoically held it together – sad, mad, confused, angry, butt in pain – I had to get the hell out of there. My dear friend “Sir” Dave Lane came up to me. I didn’t know how I’d face him, or anyone, and almost totally ignored his eye contact and kept walking away. I faced him, though. He sincerely asked if I was OK out there. I said I wasn’t, and again almost burst out crying. He looked so concerned and caring, and seemed to understand why I had to rush away to my van and peel out of there. Months and months of work crumbled into sand through my fingers and blew away in the wind. I missed the majority of the rest of the NMTC spring series, and spent 6 weeks clawing and inching back to being pretty confident that I could finish Grandma’s Marathon.

The first few miles of the Grandma’s Marathon were perfect. With my situation, it was so nice not be in a big pack of anxious starters. The road was wide open, and it was interesting to be 5 minutes behind my scheduled start corral, but 10 minutes ahead of the next Corral B starting. My first mile was 8:39. Great. There were people passing me, I was passing people, and I started to notice others running a similar pace as I. Blonde ponytail girl, old guy super tan, tats bro, loud talking teammates with matching singlets. The hamstrings were a little tight, but nothing out of the usual. In my effort to inch back to some semblance of marathon ability, I was able to string together a couple 30 mile weeks in June. That was an improvement from hardly any running at all while trying to figure out what to do right after “the incident”. Steady mileage gave me the confidence to get on the bus to the start line. I tried to put the effort from training heavy into rehabilitation. I got dry needling and scraping done, I tried to hammer on my strength routine and added a few specialty hamstring exercises. I got on my gravel bike, and was angry at myself for not realizing that cross training was good for strengthening my glutes and keeping me injury free. I felt the weak, underutilized yet very important muscles engage with the first stroke of my pedals. Idiot! Looking back, I could see it all coming. I had complained to Liam during a hill workout at 7 Bridges Road the week before NMTC started up. I remember my hamstrings feeling specifically sore, and asked if he’d carry me back to my car if they detached from my ass on the next rep. He said no. I thought I had it all figured out, but ignored red flags and didn’t even consider basic marathon concepts like cross training. It was a weird injury where running actually felt good, like it was stretching them out. But if I ran a teeny tiny bit too hard it’d be a little setback. I needed a plan for Grandma’s. I wanted to prevent a major setback, and figured trying to lock in a “50 mile effort” would be the smartest strategy. By mile 6 at Knife River, I was feeling very locked in. The crowds were fun, I was definitely keeping it easy with consistent mile splits few seconds over 8:30 per mile. I forced myself to remember what I promised – if I felt like it was going to cause a setback, I’d unquestionably drop out. Deep into the Scenic 61 section of the course, the hamstrings were doing OK. But they were certainly the most sore of anything. You shouldn’t be sore at all by mile 8 in a marathon. The reality was that I could feel their tightness every step. They just felt sore. Both of them. Just like every other run.

I opted for a fueling strategy of concentrated sugar-water in a 19 oz water bottle and sleeve that I carried. I mixed in 240 grams of carbs in the form of a glucose/fructose blend, plus some electrolytes and about 75mg of caffeine. It was going down so easily. 10 miles in, I was feeling really good, but scared. Would I look back at this moment with regret and frustration? What was I thinking? Maybe not. Miles were clicking off and I enjoyed my little area of the race I was in. Every now and again someone would zoom by, but also I was zooming by plenty of people. I recognized people running a similar pace but certainly wasn’t in a group or anything. I felt locked in right at 8:30 per mile or so, but was probably more locked in on constantly assessing how my hamstrings felt. I kept telling myself I’d know for sure, and would have the courage to do the right thing and drop out if so. I am prepared to do that, I told myself, to get to Superior in September. Eyes on the prize. Voyageur pace would get me there. 50 mile effort. Stay locked in.

Halfway seemed like a good spot to stop. I didn’t really have to pee but kind of. I didn’t really have to poop but… kind of. And kind of means it’s coming. After waiting in a toilet line for almost an hour at the start, when my time came I didn’t have to go. As far as I’m concerned, you have to start standing in that line as soon as possible regardless of your intestinal situation. Not pooping on site is specifically against my important pre-race ritual, but sometimes that’s just how it be. I kind of had to pee the whole time, which I could hold pretty easily. Perhaps it was a caffeine-induced break-the-seal type situation going on. Oh well, race time was out the window anyways, I gave myself full permission to stop, even though I felt fresh and strong. I had taken water at every aid station and felt pretty good about being about halfway or a little over with my carb mix. It was hard to get a precise read on my bottle’s contents as the foamy mixture continuously sloshed. By the time I saw a bank of half marathon start line toilets ahead, I was really excited to get to one. It’s like my body knew. I rushed in, glanced at my watch and thought about my poop PR, but that thought was immediately interrupted when I saw the empty roll on the toilet paper holder. Poop PR out the window, marathon time out of the window, I strongly prioritized comfort and went into the next toilet down to thankfully find TP. I jetted out onto the road and got right back into the race. Halfway, let’s go! When I crossed the half marathon start line, I looked down to see 1:53 on my watch. Ew.

Running along the Big Lake near McQuade Harbor, the longest I’d run in 8 weeks or so, felt immaculate. I checked back in on my hamstrings. They were feeling prime. No soreness, no tightness, pure bliss. Wait, what? How? In fact, my whole body was holding up so well. Glory! I was excited. I wondered if sitting down for a short break at the halfway mark was some secret to stretching my muscles out. I thought about getting into town, seeing friends along the course. I was feeling great. Down the stretch, I’m typically trying to hold it together with all I’ve got. This will be so nice, I told myself. My mile splits started dropping. 7:50-something. Another one. Another one. Another sub-8 back-t0-back. Easy. Not Voyageur 50 mile easy anymore. Oh well, easy enough. I felt a little exposed as the sun got higher in the sky, and wished I’d put on sunscreen. I had a sunspot mole removed from my right calf just two days before. Idiot. I was very comfortable, though, and continued sipping my drink and taking water at every aid station. I hadn’t even dumped water over my head. The year before, at the 2025 Grandma’s Marathon, I splashed water on my face from the very first aid station. By the time the Lakewood treatment plant came and went, we hit Brighton Beach and mile 18, I was so ready to get into Lakeside. I felt so confident, strong and happy crossing the Lester River and getting into town.

Suddenly, I felt my left Achilles tendon ache. Ooo. Weird. No. Not now. I had to limp a little bit. My stride altered. Why. Gah. I figured this would happen, to some extent. I hadn’t been running nearly the volume that is optimal for a marathon finish – 20 miles was certainly a shock to the body. I wondered if I’d be able to shake it off. Or else what? Two blocks later, I shook it off. Phew. I saw some dear friends at their normal spot towards the end of the Lakeside neighborhood.

I was starting to get beat up, but was running strong nevertheless. The weekly 20 milers from three months prior don’t go away that quickly, even with a fairly major training setback. I was passing people. My friend Tony popped out of the crowd at the base of Lemon Drop Hill to interview me for our podcast, which was unexpected and funny. I smiled all the way up the hill. It was hard, but I was excited to get up and over it. It was so nice to feel nice at this part of the race. I mean, I didn’t feel nice, but I was strong. A there was carnage everywhere! People walking, one guy literally screaming, racers stopped and stretching on the curb, people awkwardly hunched over. I joked to myself that in the marathon race, fun and time are directly correlated. As time goes up, so does fun. Time goes down, fun goes way down. It’s so hard to rip a fast marathon. I knew this one would be my slowest or close to it, anyways. I tossed my empty bottle to my next door neighbors Pete and Clarence when I saw them at our avenue near Mile 24, and immediately felt guilty for making them handle my nasty, sticky ole’ handheld. I enjoyed running past Blacklist Brewing where my Hoops Running Club folks were stationed, and hyped. The energy was electric. I tried to rile up the crowd at Lake Avenue and felt stronger than I ever had sprinting down West Superior Street. Turning on 5th Avenue West, down to the DECC and around the bend, I may have pushed too hard with the crowds and felt pretty gassed into the home stretch. With the last few turns could feel my springy bounce slip. Time had been out the window for a long, long, very long time. Running down the iconic finish stretch, I had to peek down and was happy to get in the 3:30s. I couldn’t have been happier to be getting a finish, which was highly questionable hours, days and weeks before. Across the line in 3:35 and feeling good at the finish, I walked with my head held high, shoulders back. I might not have physically been in that position, but it sure felt like it. It was nice not completely seize up and have to stop in the finish chute and have people grab me. I knew right away that my body would make a strong recovery. I felt like I was better set for Superior than the day before. Eyes on the prize.

Race Results

GPS Data

Place: 1883/9604
Time: 3:35:25
Pace: 8:14

Shoes: Saucony Endorphin Elite 2 size 12
Food: 7 scoops Formula 369, 1 scoop with 75mg caffeine, 1 scoop lemonade electrolyte mix in 19 oz water. 240 grams carbs, 700 mg sodium, 200mg potassium, 50mg magnesium.