We flew to Bangor, Maine on Friday afternoon, rented a car and drove to Bar Harbor. We stayed at the same Yellow House Inn that kid #2 and I stayed at during our Acadia trip in June 2023 (different room though). It’s a very cute historic home and centrally located, and it has good snacks and an espresso machine guests can access 24 hours a day, so hey!

After dropping off our stuff, we got our race bibs at the local YMCA, and got dinner at a tapas place on the main street. We ate outside, which was fine at the beginning with nearby heat lamps…but was a little chilly by the end! We both crashed quite early — I guess having no kids around provides an opportunity to get caught up on sleep.

On Saturday we were a bit more ambitious. After eating breakfast at the hotel we drove over to Acadia National Park, got our pass, then parked by Sand Beach.

While a lot of Maine is past peak now, Acadia is out on the ocean and a bit more temperate, so there was a ton of fall color. And a ton of leap peepers! The place was pretty much packed. But as with a lot of national parks, once you get slightly off the main drag, it’s less crowded. We walked down along the ocean trail, then did the Gorham Mountain trail — a family favorite. We have pictures of us doing this with our two very little boys (and me 7.5 months pregnant with kid #3) in 2011. I’m not sure if hiking up steep stony paths is a recommended day-before-a-half-marathon activity, but oh well. It was pretty. We took the Bowl Trail down and looked up at the lines of people waiting to go on the Beehive climb. You have to climb up ladders on that one so on a busy day it gets to be backed-up, so that was a big no thank you from us.

I hadn’t planned on getting a Cadillac Mountain summit reservation (I hadn’t planned much of anything…) but when we got to the park, we decided to see if any were available, and lo and behold, a few still were for the middle of the day. So after our hike we drove over to the entrance and drove up. Many pretty views from up there too. We then wound up eating at lobster pounds for a late lunch and a not-so-late dinner. The latter one – C-Ray lobster – was kind of fun for being very authentic. Just a kitchen on the side of the road with a heated tent covering picnic tables. We drove up and wondered if this was the place but within a few minutes there was a line — it had one of the highest ratings on the island and my lobster roll was indeed good. And we saw a big orange moon on the horizon on the way back!

The next morning was the race. I must admit, I had a reasonable amount of anxiety over this whole thing — both the running and the logistics. Longtime readers know that I had a back issue in January that left me unable to walk for a week and I didn’t run for about 2 months. I’ve been slowly coming back but it’s a process. I worried about being cold at the start and the end. Then there was the getting around. We needed to make a flight at 3:50 p.m. out of Bangor, which is about an hour and 15 minutes from Bar Harbor. The race was a one-direction one, with the half-marathon starting in Northeast Harbor (the marathon began in Bar Harbor) and going to Southwest Harbor. The buses ran to the half marathon start from the Village Green in Bar Harbor from 6:15-7:15 a.m., with a starting time of 8:30 a.m.. Then we’d run to the finish line festival where buses started running at 12 p.m., but on a vague-ish schedule (“when they fill.”). So we really needed to be on one of the first buses to get back to Bar Harbor, and get our car, to leave the island no later than about 1:30 to be at the airport an hour before the flight.

Fortunately they had a warm place for us all to wait the hour at the half marathon start, so that was nice. The race itself was…long. I ran the whole thing but not with a ton of pep. It was a lot hillier than I’d really planned on (the route went by the coast but there are a lot of rolling hills). There were some beautiful views, especially during the first few miles along the water. But then to make the route work we wound up running a lot of the route on a fairly busy road that was open to local traffic, with only occasional views of the water. Too bad. I think the marathon route got some more views as they went through Acadia (the marathon route met up with the half-marathon route right at the 13.1 mile mark and since they started 30 minutes before us, the winners passed us a few miles in). I survived and finished, so yay for that.

We got our snacks and finishers’ medals but didn’t linger long at the finish because of the bus issue. But by hanging out at the bus stop from 11:40 a.m. or so we did indeed make the first bus. We got back to Bar Harbor and our car at approximately 12:50, so ahead of schedule. Which turned out to be a good thing as the TSA line at Bangor was nuts. In a small airport, Pre-check doesn’t always help much. But we made our flight, and made it to Philly, in time to deal with the evening, get everyone to bed and plunge back into Monday.

Anyway, I’m a bit stiff this morning, though my back is functional, which is good. I’m not thrilled with my time but I am happy I crossed the finish line. I don’t plan on running another half marathon any time soon though. Probably some 5-10ks might be more my style for a while… And hey, the leaves were pretty!

I really enjoyed reading his account of the race, because it shows, clearly, that many things in life that are ultimately meaningful are not fun in the moment. Being stung by jellyfish during the swim component? Not fun. Headwinds during a 112 mile bike ride? Also not fun. And, as I can attest from doing Big Sur in April, running a marathon is not exactly fun either (though at least I didn’t do it after swimming and biking!) But as I told myself as I was sitting on the bus to the start line at 4:30AM, in a few hours this will all be over. It has to be, because they’ll open the roads up again. Most likely I will be at the finish line when they do that. And so it’s just a matter of getting there, one mile or even one minute at a time.

Often, when we think about time, we think about saving a few minutes here, seizing time, or what have you. But sometimes, time becomes about pushing through and hoping it goes quickly. Its ephemeral nature can be a blessing. I have felt that way sometimes on flights with my small children. A flight cannot last forever. Even if it’s a 10-hour flight, it is only 10 hours. Probably, the baby won’t scream for all of it. So enjoy the few minutes where he isn’t, and that old German man who keeps coming back to shake his fist at you in anger goes back to his seat. Even the worst bouts of norovirus seldom last more than a few days. Labor? I’ve maxed out at 8 hours. A pregnancy won’t last more than 41-42 weeks (and the middle chunk of that is not so bad). I once willed myself through a zip-line tour of the rainforest canopy in Nicaragua even though I am deathly afraid of heights by noting that in 90 minutes I’d be eating lunch. Did I make it through this minute? Yep? Then only 89 more to go.

Ultimately, you learn that you can view something that is currently unpleasant with a bit of detachment. Yes, I feel awful now. But I can see through to the other side, and I will not feel awful forever. Time will keep going. It never stops. Sometimes that is alarming. But sometimes, it’s a relief.

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I can’t say I had any great thoughts during the race. Mostly, I was just trying to enjoy the scenery along the Pacific coast, and willing the miles to go by just a wee bit faster than the hills and occasional headwinds allowed (my time was a full minute per mile slower than I had trained. Ugh).

That said, spending at least 7 of my 168 hours training for the last few months has helped solidify a few ideas in my mind on how to use the hours I have to create a meaningful life. The Publishers Weekly reviewer of 168 Hours raised his or her eyebrows at my sentence that “there’s little point…in spending much time on activities in which you can’t excel,” but I particularly liked the first part of that statement: “There’s little point…in being too scattered to master something.” Maybe “master” is the wrong word. My slow miles hardly indicate mastery. I do believe, though, that great satisfaction is achieved by choosing a small number of roles or activities that mean the most to you, and then (this is key) going all-in with an eye on getting better.

Since starting the 168 Hours project, I have focused primarily on four spheres that mean a lot to me. I have my family. I am a writer. I am a musician (and for a few more weeks the president of the Young New Yorkers’ Chorus). I am a runner. I am trying to invest as many hours as I can in those things. And as a result, some wonderful things are happening. My family is growing and I am enjoying my time with my little ones more. My writing is getting better. I stayed up late reading the fresh-off-the-presses hard cover copy of 168 Hours last night and I can honestly say it is a book I am happy with as a work of craft. In December, my choir packed a record 650 20- and 30-something audience members into a church to hear us sing classical music. Young people clamoring to hear classical music! How many arts groups can say that?

Running was obviously the next arena for going all-in. And in running these days, that seems to mean doing a marathon. Big Sur, according to Runner’s World, is the one to run if you’re only going to do one. The training has been good for me. I got my head around the idea of distance. I used to think running 5 miles was a long run. Now it seems like nothing. I pushed my way through cross-country style workouts (8x800s anyone?) and as a result, I am stronger. I am (a not unimportant matter for a woman who gave birth 7 months ago) thinner. And running long builds a certain mental toughness not unlike that required in labor. Yes, you feel awful right now, but you can see through to the other side, that you will not feel awful forever.

And I don’t. But I don’t think I’ll be running another marathon any time soon. I can definitely remember that reflection, which I reflected upon again (and again, and again) from, oh, about mile 18 on.