Grandmotherly Advice: How to Tell If You Aren’t Ready for Race Day

In the weeks leading up to this year’s Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth, Minnesota, they began popping up like weeds on my front lawn. The social media posts are filled with doubt and hesitation. 

“I am nervous I will not be in shape enough…”

“Need some encouragement. I’ve never run a marathon before … I’m worried I didn’t train enough.”

“…I feel like Jabba the Hutt…”

“I have tendonitis – it has improved with PT but still clicks …”

There’s also the doubt cloaked in curiosity. “This is my first marathon. I’m starting my taper now. Wondering what was your longest run in training?” Many of these types of runners said they were “asking for a friend.”

The Healthy Kind of Nervous

Doubt is natural, and so are nerves. In fact, a certain amount of nervousness is as healthy as a port-o-john visit on Race Day. It keeps you sharp, puts you on edge (nerves, not the port-o-john). I once had dinner with the attorney who represented Jane Roe in the landmark Roe v. Wade Supreme Court Case. She was not a runner, but hear me out. This was after I’d seen her give a flawless presentation to an overflowing room. I commented that I bet she never felt nerves.

“Oh yes I do! Almost every time.” she said. “In fact, it’s when I’m not nervous that I know I’m in trouble.”

My Calf, the Scream

Back to nerves around Grandma’s Marathon, I was also signed up for the race and I had my own misgivings. Just like the hundreds of social media posts. In a light morning run two weeks earlier, I pulled up lame, my right calf screaming like that famous Edvard Munch painting. I had to walk it in that morning, tail between my legs and pale-faced from the pain. 

I hadn’t run a step since then. What I had done, though, was visit a physical therapist and let him treat me like a pin cushion and run electrical current up and down my lower leg. My muscles throbbed and pulsed to the beat of a caffeinated drum circle. Laying on the doctor’s table, I glanced at the calendar, wondering if I had enough time to heal up before heading to Duluth for the race.

DNS, DNF, or Just Do It?

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How do we know when we’re ready for a race? Is there a way to tell if we should even show up? Can we know if we should take a “D” – “DNS” or “DNF”?

As runners, we’re often encouraged to ignore another “D”: Discomfort. Even when it gets extreme. Years ago, some time between R.E.M. and Green Day, I owned a tee shirt that said, “Pain is Temporary. Pride is Forever.” The Pain Cave is the over-glorified zone where heroes are made. Or so the machismo goes. That indomitable gusto makes for glowing war stories or mountainous doctor bills.

When we start getting into endurance races, there can be an unspoken understanding that we may need to even ignore pain altogether. We may convince ourselves that it’s the price of admission to the Finisher’s Club. Later, we laugh and reminisce in our belt buckles or wearing our finisher’s medals, laughing about the stupidity of it all as we limp off into the sunset.

Training Gaps: Can You Fake It?

With these mixed signals, how do we know if we’re sufficiently prepared for the race ahead, whether it’s a half marathon, ultramarathon, iron-distance triathlon, or something else ridiculously audacious? We’re told to “be smart” but also that there’s no gain without the pain.

There’s a softer underbelly to this immortal question, too: how do we know if we’re simply not trained up enough for the event? l admit; that is a difficult one. There have been athletes who exceed expectations on Race Day, completing distances and handing in performances that their training logs could not have foreseen. And every now and then ignorance can be a side door to success.

The Worst That Can Happen Isn’t That Bad

When you’re coming up on Race Day, and feeling the nervous gremlins creeping in, here is some input to put your heart at ease:

If you’re injured, and you head out there, are you risking greater calamities? That is, are you betting 100 bucks when there’s a chance to lose 200 bucks? Even an Enron accountant would call that a bad deal. Make a funny poster and stay on the sidelines instead. And please make sure it’s an informed decision, from a medical pro with letters after their name.  

If you’re questioning your training volume, know that the race will hurt more than it should. Maybe more than you thought possible. But it can be done. I know a guy who went into the Hardrock 100 with 30-mile weeks all of May and June. He completed it, and kissed the rock (just before curling into a ball as his body seized up like a dorm room AC unit). Accept the hurt and schedule a massage for next week.  

You Might Be in Over Your Head If…

There is a true chance you could be in over your head. If any of these are true, consider training adjustments (if time allows), sell your race spot in a back alley, or think about staying home:

• You have not recently biked at least ⅔ of the distance of the bike distance of the race, Or there is rust on your cassette. Or you ride wearing a football helmet. 
• The race is at high altitude and you do not have a plan for how to deal with rarified air. It’s hard to find extra O2 when you know what hits the fan.
• Even after many training sessions, open water swimming gives you the jeebies and you’re prone to panic attacks. 

A Hug from Grandma (Sort Of)

Finally, ask yourself, “If I show up at the Starting Line and things go south, what is the worst that will happen? A DNF? So what. Like crotch rot, every runner has either experienced it, or will one day. So you limp and whimper off the course, wipe away your tears, and catch a ride to the finish line to cheer on those others who had their day in the sun.

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