The big project I’ve been working on, which I hope
to complete within about the next decade, is to run a marathon in every state.
I thought I’d share what I’ve learned so far about the relevant logistics. A
reasonable person might ask, but you’re not even half way there* (Footnote 1: 16
states, but also the District of Columbia and Iceland, and doubled up on
Vermont); isn’t it a little presumptuous to write something like this before
you’ve finished the deed? Fair enough. But I’ve learned a few tricks so far and
it would be a shame if I got hit by a bus tomorrow before enlightening the rest
of the world with my cunning insights. So, here’s what you need to know…
Near vs. Far
50 staters who live in the Northeast have the
distinct advantage of having so many states nearby. If you live in Hawaii and
have to take a 9 hour flight to any other state, you’re a little screwed (only
in the sense of trying to run 50 marathons in different states; not in any
other sense since, for crying out loud, you live in Hawaii). But remember not
to knock off all the close races early. It’s easy to do Massachusetts, Rhode
Island, Connecticut and New Hampshire in one year. It’s not so easy to do California, Oregon, Arizona and
Montana in a year. Think long-term and leave some easy travel races in reserve
for later. And remember that distance isn’t the only component of ease of
travel. A long, direct flight into a big city can be a lot faster and easier
than connecting flights followed by a long drive.
Awesome States
vs. Shitty States
I realized recently that, while I had been
conscientious about balancing my races between Near and Far, the Far ones I did
were all really cool ones – Honolulu, San Francisco, Austin, Miami – meaning
that at some point I was going to have to do all the super shitty states. Every
state probably has some nice areas, but let’s face it, some states are unfairly
awesome. The Honolulu marathon wasn’t at all one of my favorites, but it’s in
Hawaii. Getting a root canal in Hawaii is more awesome than going on vacation
in a lot of states. If you really mean it about doing a race in every state, at
some point you’re going to have to go to Klansville, PU, Chawloogie, OY and
Asswater, IK* (Footnote 2: the names of these towns and states have been
changed so as not to give the impression that I’m an East Coast elitist who
thinks that all of middle America is just a bunch of backwater flyover states
that get in the way when you’re trying to get from Brooklyn to Sausalito). If
you do all the awesome states first, you’ll have to do all the shitty states
later – at which point you’ll also be getting older and probably progressively
more jaded and curmudgeonly – and you’ll die thinking of the United States as a
desolate, boring, shitty string of rural strip malls. So keep that in mind.
Big Races vs.
Small Races
Big races get all the attention, but small races can
be every bit as much fun. On the other hand, most races are small races. There
probably aren’t more than about half a dozen races that are in the 30,000
person range. There are a bunch in the 1,000 to 5,000 range and hundreds that
are really small, as in under 500 or even under 100. So if a state you’re
looking at has a huge race – New York City, Boston, Chicago, DC – don’t miss
out on that one. Finding a tiny marathon is easy.
Calendar
Considerations
For several years I did two marathons per year. Then
moved up to three. Now four. Four is probably going to be my upper limit. If
you assume a twelve-week training regimen, four marathons a year means you
pretty much have to start ramping up for the next marathon the week after you
finish the last one. And that’s assuming that all of the marathons are evenly
spaced out throughout the year, which they never are. When deciding on a
marathon, you have to look at the whole year as one puzzle to get the spacing
right. Finding races where the dates work out right, combined with all the
factors above and below, gets complicated fast. But fun too. I keep my own big
master list of marathons that look like fun, with their dates and website
addresses. I look at it all the time. I feel like a kid in a candy store.
Staying
Employed
Most of you are probably working stiffs like me, who
The Man is trying to keep down via an unconscionably paltry number of vacation
days. So you gotta use those babies sparingly. I don’t know why this is the
case, but the vast majority of marathons are on Sundays. My personal preference
is to get to wherever the marathon is a full day in advance. That way I have
plenty of time to chill and scope out the area, and then just destroy myself
with a horrible, shitty travel schedule after the race. For a Sunday race, that
usually means an after-work flight on a Friday, getting in late, taking it easy
on Saturday (sleep late, pick up bib at expo, drive some of the course, pasta
dinner, get in bed at 9:00) and then, on Sunday, running the race and getting
right back in the car or on a plane to come home. Yes, you’ll be sore and miserable
and uncomfortable and exhausted and hardly able to function at work on Monday,
and “Future You” will be telling “Past You” that you’re a short-sighted idiot –
and for good measure go fuck yourself – but at least you won’t have to take a
vacation day.
The Right
Hotel
To me, choosing the right hotel for a marathon is
the easiest travel decision of all. I stay at the one closest to the start
line. Period. If I have the choice of a Ritz Carlton that is 0.28 miles from
the start and a rent-by-the-hour Skank-O-Lodge with a Yelp review that says “worst
place you could stay short of Auschwitz; bed bugs; clogged toilet; blood stains
on the pillowcases; open air drug market in the lobby,” and which is the same
price as the Ritz but 0.275 miles from the start, I will always go with the
latter. The night before a race is always stressful. It’s nice not to have
worry about how long it will take to get to the start. I also learned a
surprising potent trick from the book “Heads in Beds” (Jacob Tomsky, 2013).
When you check in to a hotel, give the front desk clerk your credit card, your
driver’s license and a $20 bill. It’s amazing how far that gets you. Often a
room upgrade, higher floor, better view, etc. At a minimum, free wifi or access
to a concierge floor, if there is one. Nothing like a little flat-out, old
fashioned bribery to pave the way.
Pulling the
Trigger
Most races never fill to capacity. But some,
especially the big ones, fill up within minutes of when registration opens. So
if you have a race picked out, make sure to pay attention to when registration
opens – not just the date but the specific time of day. When registration for a
big race is getting close, my office becomes like a NASA control room. I have
the best flight, hotel, rental car and Italian restaurant scoped out, ten
windows open on my computer, and, within 45 seconds of clicking “complete
registration now” on the marathon site, all of my travel plans are done. True,
it usually turns out that seats are available on the same flight for another
seven months. But what if it fills up right that second!!?? Better safe than
sorry. A lot of hotels and rental car companies now offer a much cheaper rate
for a non-cancelable, prepaid reservation. So if you’re really ready to go, you
can save a few bucks that way. I also have found that you get somewhat better
service and more leeway if you ever have to change anything if you buy a plane
ticket directly through the airline’s website. And the price is usually the
same as what you can find on Travelocity / Kayak / Orbitz. So I usually search
flights on one of the travel sites and then buy directly from the airline.
Remember that
the 50 State Project is not the End All Be All of your Existence on Earth
When I first started thinking about signing up for
the Reykjavik, Iceland marathon, the thought actually crossed my mind that, if
I did that one, I wouldn’t be able to chalk up another state. Fortunately, I
came to my senses quickly and told myself, “dude, you are being an asshole.”
Reykjavik was one of the coolest places I’ve ever been. Not going there so that
I could cross Asswater, IK off the list would have been moronic beyond belief. The
50 state thing is a fun project, and a great excuse to go places you never
would have gone otherwise, but it is not the end-all-be-all of your travel
life. And it’s a long term endeavor. So if you ever find yourself wanting to go
back to somewhere you’ve already been and even repeating a marathon there –
gasp – it’s alright. God willing, you’ve got the rest of your life to get
through the whole list.
There are lots of websites where you can make
check-off maps of states you’ve been to. Here’s my marathon map as of now:
