By Meg Schefter
A lot of marathon training, and particularly race day, is left to chance. There are so many things that can go “wrong” that are seemingly out of your control.
For example, after a long training run this summer, I needed a ride back to my vehicle because it was too hot to make it back on my own. During the ride, I chatted for a few minutes with my Uber driver, Seifedin, who was very excited I was training for a marathon. As I got out of the car he shouted, “Good luck with the marathon, I hope you win!” After I got back to my vehicle, I realized my gas tank was on “E” – feeling frustrated, dehydrated, and out of glycogen, I begrudgingly made my way to a gas station.
When I arrived, I realized I lost my credit card on the run. I asked a stranger if he would be willing to fill my tank and I’d Venmo him in return. He was a bit hesitant at first, but after he noticed the post-long-run-salt all over my body, he softened, and filled up my tank while we chatted about marathon training. He talked about his wife being a marathoner and shared that he was excited for me; I learned his name was Paul through the Venmo transaction. Paul wished me good luck and ended our interaction by saying, “I hope you win!”
Don’t they know I’m an average paced runner and I won’t be winning a marathon?
And I thought, REALLY? TWICE? Those same words? By random men? On the same day? And they both hoped I would WIN? Don’t they know I’m an average paced runner and I won’t be winning a marathon?
I’m so grateful it was too hot that day. I’m so grateful I lost my card that day.
On October 6th, I ran 26.2 miles (26.55 if you ask my apple watch). And chance and luck and magic were on my side. I went to the bathroom twice before the race (iykyk), parking was easy, and I felt the perfect blend of confident, anxious, and excited leading up to the start line. And then all of a sudden, after months of training, the corral moved forward and it was finally time. Less than a mile in, as we ran and whooped and hollered together under a building downtown, I started to cry as I felt the echoing vibrations of the running community pass throughout my body. I remember thinking, “I am just so happy and grateful to be here.” I get goosebumps when I replay that moment – the moment I knew I would be finishing a marathon that day.
The emotions and self-trust settled in and I told myself to go slow, to keep paying attention, to really notice and soak it all in. I didn’t want to miss a thing!
I started to cry as I felt the echoing vibrations of the running community pass throughout my body.
As the miles went on, the waves of gratitude continued. I noticed the wind at my back, the cool temps and the beginning of autumn, and the comfort of my city, the lakes, and a course I know so well. I felt the energy of the crowds, Melanie and Theresa pulling me forward, and a profound sense of belonging. Strangers looked me in the eye and cheered things like “Let’s go, Meg!” and “You look so strong, Meg” and “Your pace is steady, Meg!” - They meant it, deeply, and I felt it, deeply. I high-fived a line of people who were shouting my name, sending me across the bridge for the final stretch with a fresh hit of encouragement.
Loved ones tracked my progress and sent encouraging texts. My playlist hit just right. I fueled and hydrated how I planned to. My family showed up for me, my friends made signs, and I had people waiting for me at the finish line.
No blisters. No chafing. No bathroom breaks. No injuries. Some nerve pain, achy feet, and a slower rough elevation climb for the final miles – nothing too surprising for a marathon.
My watch died right after I crossed the finish line.
Our hotel room was ready for early check-in.
We got a surprise reimbursement.
My post-race burrito had the right ratio of everything.
The Vikings won.
Magic? Luck? Chance? Hard Work Paying Off?
I couldn’t stop noticing how things were going my way.
Turns out a lot can go right during a marathon, too.
My playlist hit just right. I fueled and hydrated how I planned to. My family showed up for me, my friends made signs, and I had people waiting for me at the finish line.
We celebrated. With old pals and new pals, balloons, banners, confetti, gin, snacks, and cards – the evening ended with a rooftop concert and a hot tub soak with a Minneapolis skyline view. Followed by a slow morning, the best pumpkin latte I’ve ever had, ordering in breakfast, a morning soak, and solo time with a dear friend for nearly 30 years.
695 training miles and dozens of dietitian and therapy appointments later… after learning what it means to be a “salty sweater,” the ins/outs of proper fueling, and reflecting for months about what training for and finishing this race would mean to me… I reclaimed the marathon distance and created meaning in the moment. I had fun and I was challenged. I was healthy and strong. I laughed and I cried. I felt cared for, loved, celebrated, and seen. I openly and gratefully and proudly raced in the non-binary category, in an inclusive race (@twincitiesinmotion), in my city. I wore a tank top and shorts and cared less about the size and shape of my body than I ever have. Instead, I focused on the trust I have in my body’s resilience and in my ability to endure and overcome hard things – both of which, alongside randomness aligning in my favor and never feeling alone – carried me 26.2 miles.
That’s winning.
I won.
Can someone let Seifedin and Paul know?
Meg Schefter is a social worker and therapist in St. Louis Park, specializing in LGBTQIA+ experiences, ADHD, autism, and trauma. Running has been an important part of managing their own mental health, burnout, and neurodiversity experiences. Meg also enjoys reading and writing, jigsaw puzzles, art, plants, coffee, and romanticizing the little things in life. Learn more about Meg’s practice here.