If you ever find yourself mulling the idea of trying to run a marathon with little to no training, I have some newly acquired advice: Don’t do it.
I am two days removed from such an attempt during the Great Bangor Marathon, and after roughly 22 miles and an early exit from the race, my legs certainly wouldn’t recommend it.
It’s almost like there’s a reason that running experts stress the importance of preparing your body and mind for the rigors of 26.2 consecutive miles.
“Is running a marathon with no training doable? Sure. Advisable? Definitely not,” running coach Erica Coviello told RUN in a recent interview. “Stepping up to the starting line of a marathon without training is like standing at the foot of Mt. Everest, thinking you can climb to the summit without any research or preparation.”
I became a walking billboard (more like a limping billboard) for that caution after Sunday’s race. Anyone who saw me stagger around Hannaford Sunday night or slowly shuffle in to work Monday morning could likely attest to the results of my ill-prepared quest.
My half-brained idea to run a full marathon without really training for it took shape in recent weeks as I got set to cover the second annual Great Bangor Marathon and Half for the Bangor Daily News: Yes, I should interview runners about the experience. But what if I literally put myself in their shoes, and tried to experience the toll of a marathon firsthand?
With a relatively new race right here in Bangor — and critically, one with no time limit — the moment seemed right for an experiment. I arrived at the start line on Sunday with few expectations and even less preparation.
I typically run a few times each week, so I wasn’t starting at zero. But a 5K here and there hardly sets you up for the slog of a marathon, as I found out the hard way. After running a leisurely five miles last Sunday as a test, my unscientific thought was that I could replicate that a few times and at least get to around 15 miles. I had managed to complete a half marathon a couple of years ago, and threw 18 around as a potential over-under in conversations leading up to Sunday’s race.
I didn’t think that I could summit Everest — to borrow Coviello’s metaphor — but I was interested to see just how far up the mountain I could get.
Around 22 miles, it turns out. And that was with plenty of walking.
I had no right to even make it that far, but some invaluable last minute advice helped me bring at least a modicum of sensibility to an otherwise senseless marathon attempt.
Erica Jesseman knows a thing or two about running marathons. The Scarborough native has won the Hartford Marathon in Connecticut multiple times. She’s won the Maine Marathon. And she’s competed in the U.S. Olympic Trials.
She didn’t hesitate to share some advice for this would-be marathoner last week.
“Do not go out too hard. Make sure you get your nutrition. Make sure you’re getting your water stops,” Jesseman told me. “Even if you don’t need it, take your water stops. Walk at those water stops. Don’t be afraid to walk.”
I leaned into that advice on Sunday, particularly the walking and water, and there is no doubt it propelled me farther than I otherwise would have gone. That’s also true for similar advice I received from my uncle who has run several marathons. And if I had done a better job listening to them on the nutrition front, I may have even made it to the finish line.
“If you need to walk, walk. You know, do those things,” said Jesseman, who was also frank about my lack of training. “That’s crazy though, dude.”
As crazy as it was, for the first half of the race, things actually seemed to be going OK. I kept myself to what felt like a manageable pace around 11 minutes per mile. I made the turn at the halfway point knowing that every step I took beyond that was the farthest I had ever run in a single day.
Then I hit a wall.
The first signs of it started around mile 16. My legs weakened. Even after a prolonged water break and walk, it felt at times like they might give out under me on any given step. I spent the next few miles running when possible and walking when necessary.
I doubled up on beverages at the water stations. But I might have been too late with that extra hydration. I ran out of the energy chews I had brought for fuel. I never ran again after mile 19. Each attempt to get going once more felt like trying to start a lawn mower that has just run out of gas. I would sputter and fail each time. Even Blink-182 radio on Spotify couldn’t get me back in the zone.
This type of exhaustion was a new experience for me, but a seemingly common occurrence in the marathon world. “Hitting the wall” is a term for when your body runs out of fuel, specifically glycogen, causing fatigue and a rapid decline in performance. My performance wasn’t exactly elevated to begin with, but the wall was real nonetheless.
And when it got to the point that even walking felt like a challenge, I knew it was time to throw in the towel.
If I had better followed advice about nutrition, I might have stood a chance. With better fueling before and during the race, and with some actual training and preparation, I perhaps could have crossed the finish line. Instead, I could barely get out of bed on Monday.
But I’m already drawing inspiration from a few of Sunday’s runners who conquered the course after previous marathons hadn’t gone so well. I’ll be back, but not on a whim. The next time I attempt a marathon, it will be with the preparation and respect that a 26.2 mile run deserves.
