Lubec, Maine, USA & Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada
Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
Tucked away in the northernmost corner of Downeast Maine, the small town of Lubec provided a picturesque and friendly environment for this run. The organization was outstanding, especially given the logistics involved in a two-country marathon; you’d hardly have known this was the inaugural event.
Getting there from Phoenix was almost as involved as an overseas trip; red-eye to Bangor via Philly, overnight at the Bangor airport hotel, and then a 3-hour drive up the coast to Lubec. I settled into my room at West Quoddy Station, then drove up to the Lighthouse for a look around tomorrow’s starting line before heading into town. Packet pickup is at the high school, but bibpickup is at the Campobello Visitor’s Center on the Canadian side of the border – it’s a clever way to make sure that all marathon runners have to pass through the Customs checkpoint, show their passports and get their names ticked off a list both ways. Like many others I park on the US side and walk across, to get a preview of “the hill” on the other side of the bridge.
Back at the high school, a ukulele band with a wide repertoire is entertaining the line into the lobster dinner and pasta feed. (The lobster dinner was extra and didn’t include pasta, so not your traditional “carb-loading” dinner.) Dessert is a pile of homemade goodies including cookies and baklava. One of the volunteers kindly gives me a lift back to the Station so I can leave my rental car at the school. There’s a shuttle from the school to the start tomorrow but since I’m staying right on the route there’s some confusion about what time they’re closing the road.
Sunrise comes early on the eastern edge of the continent, so it’s full daylight as I walk the one mile to the start along tree-lined coastal road. About every ten minutes a yellow school bus full of runners passes. Yesterday was overcast but it’s beautiful and clear now and not cold at all. At the start runners are milling around, debating the merits of the portaloos vs the park outhouse, and running down to the lighthouse photo ops. Some fellow One Run For Boston peeps notice my ORFB shirt; they’re going to be running legs in Massachusetts next week. “You’re one of those badasses who ran in the desert!” Uh, badass, me? I don’t think so.
Although my target pace for the marathon is 10:40, I don’t feel bad about starting off in the 9:30 range since the early stretch is a gradual downhill. It’ll get tough enough later on. Classic New England seaside houses sit back from the road, their occupants come out with homemade signs to cheer us on, or wave from their distant balconies. Blue and purple lupins line the way.
At mile four we turn right onto Main Street and head into town. “Welcome runners/Fresh strawberry pie” says a readerboard outside a restaurant. Spectators gather on the sidewalks, some behind tables selling lemonade and spanakopita. “Run For Peace” “Push here for Turbo power!” “Go, random stranger!!!” Blink and you’ll miss it – it’s downtown Lubec! The largest crowd is here on Water Street, right before the bridge. There’s a guy banging on a djembe – I hear a lot of “Go Boston!’ and then “Go Nancy!” Wait, how do they know my name? Oh yeah, it’s on my bib!
Over the bridge and onto Campobello Island! Here, at mile six, is where it starts to get tough. There’s that first big hill, then rolling hill after hill after that, and the road is pretty heavily cambered as well. The elevation profile doesn’t really look that bad; I think it’s just that the hills never end from this point on. I slow to my target pace and maintain that until about mile 14, when it really starts to drag.
Sometimes, where the road dips it opens out into a craggy cove on the left or the right, with maybe a clapboard house or some lobster boats that make me feel like I’m running through a Bob Ross painting. The course across the Island is sprinkled with spectators, clustering outside small shops and B&Bs. There’s even Santa Claus, in a more summery outfit than usual.
Mile 16 is the turnaround at the northern end of the island. I briefly glimpse the other lighthouse; its lamp appears to be lit and there is a bit of a fog coming in. There’s also a light rain on the way back down the island. I’m walking the hills now, and to keep myself going I start growling every time I have to walk, to the consternation of some of my fellow racers who are also taking walk breaks. I’ve hit the proverbial Wall, but I’m bound and determined to pull this one in under 5 hours.
Finally I’m heading down The Hill, the far shore visible in the distance. As I pass over the bridge I look down to see the famous Bay of Fundy tide rushing under my feet. A right onto Water Street, a few hundred yard more, and I’m across the finish line in 4:53:49! Woot!
A volunteer wraps me in tinfoil and bundles me off to the library to warm up. When I emerge, the crafts fair around the finish line is breaking down as the temperature has dropped, the wind picked up and the fog rolled in. I get a hunk of smoked salmon on a stick from one of the vendors, then into a coffee shop for a hot sweet coffee that the chasier gives me free of charge – the people here are so nice!
The general buzz amongst the runners afterwards was “Those hills were tough – I can’t wait to do it again!” Some were even booking their rooms for next year – kind of a necessity when 800 runners and their crew descend on a town of 1,600. I had a great time and was proud to tough it out and break the 5-hour barrier. One day I will run a flat marathon – really!