Late-blooming Athlete: Ann Mehl's 26.2-mile Transformation

26.2 mile transformation | Ann Mehl

It’s with great pleasure that I have the honor of introducing y’all to Ann Mehl for today’s late-blooming athlete interview. I’ve been reading Ann’s work for awhile now (especially in Women’s Adventure Magazine) and have a huge admiration for her outlook on life, her advice and her strength.

She’s a fellow life coach who’s found tremendous inspiration and strength from the sport of marathon, and being active in the outdoors.

I’ll admit I was a bit intimidated to reach out to Ann, but boy am I glad I did! Not only is her story pretty amazing, but she’s also—simply put—a kickass woman I’m excited to know.

When she was a sophomore in college, life threw her a few curve balls and she decided to do something different in hopes of finding answers and a semblance of balance.

This “something different” felt drastic and unlike herself, yet she was intrigued. She wanted something different. And in fact, it turns out, needed it.

She decided to run the Boston marathon.

Without telling anyone. Without ever having run. Without a training plan. Without a race number. All she had was determination, curiosity and an intense desire to see it through.

The transformation she experienced during that first marathon (and every one of the 40+ she’s run since) is one that particularly resonates with me in a hundred different ways and I am delighted to share her story with you.

Her wisdom and insights are enlightening, encouraging and eminently accessible—even if you’ve never run a mile in your life. Or maybe especially if you’ve never run a mile in your life—yet.

Ann running in NYC

Transformation by Marathon

Ann, thank you so much for speaking with me today and sharing such an incredible story. Can you start by telling us a little about what your life (and activity level) was like before your decision to run?

I was never an athlete in high school. I enjoyed some individual sports like skiing, but that was only on occasion. There were five kids in my family and the unspoken rule around sports was, “don’t get hurt.”

Having come from a small, all-girls private high school, I got to college and found I had to adjust to a completely different world. I felt lost in a sea of folks. In my sophomore year I broke up with a boyfriend and was feeling ungrounded, lost and really insecure.

I went through a period of questioning what I liked about myself, and what I found to be true.

There was a mixture of feeling lost and wanting to do something for myself. And in that overwhelming lost mode, I latched onto the concept of the marathon to do something different.

I had no idea if I could finish one. I’d never been an athlete. I could barely run down the block, so I knew there was no way I could do crew or something really fun and cool.

I had to get in shape. I used the marathon as my reason to train.

So the marathon was a means to an end at that point, right?

Yeah. I had gone to a crew meeting to do rowing. They talked about running from the boathouse in the morning before training every morning.

And I tried. I figured, “let me just see how far I can go on my own.”

I couldn’t run a block without being out of breath. (A block being a quarter of a mile.) I tried. I ran from that boathouse and found I had little or no cardio ability.

After that first run I said, “uh oh.” I was sucking wind. It was ridiculous and I was embarrassed for myself.

I realized then I to get myself into shape.

getting started

When you decided to run a marathon—Boston, no less—how did you get started?

San Diego marathon

I started quietly. I didn’t tell friends ‘cause I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to accomplish the goal, and that I wouldn’t have enough strength or willpower to continue.

Did you use any particular techniques?

At first, I would start outside and say to myself, “let’s see if you can get to that tree.” Then it was, “now see if you can get to the fire hydrant.”

Then, “now this time, let’s go past the fire hydrant and let’s see if you can go one more block to the light.”

And I would just keep measuring it in terms of things I could see. I didn’t know officially if it was a mile, two miles or ten miles. It was all about time on the ground.

How did you know how to train?

I started to go into the gym on campus and run on the internal track. My mode in the beginning was “see how long you can keep going.”

What I was finding was that I’d conk out pretty early. I’d do maybe a couple laps, feel tired and want to stop and walk.

I was watching this gentleman, motoring around and around much slower. And I thought to myself “this guy has it figured out.”

Although I was shy, I decided to reach out to him. I introduced myself and said, “Sir, I don’t know if you run marathons, but I think you’ve got something I don’t have and I could use some help.”

And, in fact, he had not only run a marathon, but taught a course on the history of the Boston marathon. So now I’ve got a guru. He told me, “You meet me Saturday at 10 o’clock and we’ll start there.”

It was my own Buddha for the marathon.

So I followed him around a little bit. He helped me build in the longer distance. I didn’t know the course and so as much as I was putting in a lot of running time every day, I wasn’t going out and doing the course backwards, doing heartbreak hill. He got me to do a bit more and talked me through some things he was noticing about my stride.

I figured if my legs could keep going and I didn’t feel like I wanted to die, and if it was three and a half hours later, that was a good sign that I’d have a chance that day to finish the whole thing.

That’s wonderful. Were there any other things that helped keep you motivated for those long runs?

To change it up, I would take money for the T (Boston’s metro system) and keep going and going and going in a straight line. I’d go as far as I could and then I’d jump on the T and take it back home.

When I think about the parts of Boston I’ve seen on foot, it’s really kind of fun.

race day

Okay. Race day. What was going through your mind when you lined up?

That first marathon: Boston 1993

I had a lot of fear at the start, before we even lined up. Looking around and watching people stretch themselves into pretzels. I wasn’t one for stretching that much so I found the whole thing intimidating.

I didn’t know how the whole thing worked. I was just like, “what is this day going to be like?”

I ran as a ghost. I hadn’t officially signed up, so didn’t have a number. I simply put the initials of the school (BC for Boston College) on my T-shirt.

I hadn’t told a soul.

What was the run like?

I’d say the way I ran was conservative. I tried to listen to the body and take it slow, knowing that, almost like climbing Everest, it was like if I can keep enough fuel in the tank I could do this thing.

I didn’t go out of the gate fast and I didn’t push it.

Like any race, I got tighter as I went along. Everything was so new and it was surprising that, as I would get further, I realized I was doing it.

Internally, I was thinking, “I can’t believe I’m doing it.” I was pinching myself the whole way through.

Never did I have a moment of confidence in terms of “I got this race.” Instead I thought, “Dear God.” That’s why it was so monumental for me. ‘Cause I was just so naive to my own abilities.

And I think what I felt, too, at the end, was “wow, I’m really strong because I willed myself through points to which I had never pushed.”

So the concept that even though the body’s saying, “we’re done,” while the mind says, “we can do some more,” is fascinating to me.

I’d never had that kind of experience before, so I felt beyond myself, if that makes any sense. Greater than the identity that I’d ever imagined.

What was it like crossing that finish line?

It was, for me, a major turning point for how I felt about myself because the concept of running was difficult to conceive of in the beginning.

And then it was daunting to imagine I could do the full thing.

And then pushing through the pain and what was involved that day for me, which was fairly dramatic.

I never looked back and I haven’t felt the same about myself ever since.

You mentioned there was some drama during the race. What happened?

I didn’t take any water like a fool. Oh my gosh, I mean honestly, what did I think?

It was just because of fear. I was afraid if I stopped I wouldn’t keep going.

I got to mile 20, which is right at Heartbreak Hill. I got to the top of it, which is right where Boston College is situated. At that point a couple people recognized me and they jumped in ‘cause they were so astonished and were excited for me and they couldn’t believe I was doing it.

And after 20, I started to feel really dizzy. To the degree that, I remember feeling that if I tripped in any way, or you know, caught my sneaker, I probably would’ve gone down. I was so disoriented because I was so dehydrated.

I didn’t really talk too much to my friends, as I couldn’t really comprehend what they were trying to say.

So the last six miles I thankfully made it through and right at the end, I remember the pieces right at the end. I just remember wanting it to be over. So very badly.

But at the end, as much pain as I was in, at first I thought “never again.” And then I found, a couple days later, I’m on the Internet looking up other races.

from one marathon to 40 and counting: staying motivated

Do you still have the feeling of awe and fascination of your ability of pushing through the pain and going beyond yourself 40 marathons and sixteen years later?

One of 40+ marathons Ann has completed

Yeah, I do. I do every time I line up and I finish one. I’m really proud of myself. Still. Every single time.

It’s something I work through. And I often go to them by myself, too. So I flew into Berlin and Stockholm and walking towards the start, sometimes I give myself a little pat on the back and say, “good on you. This is brave.”

What continues to challenge you?

I think the different events, meaning showing up for different ones helps a lot. For the variety factor and the learning as well.

And all the other pieces that are new and challenging when you travel internationally for a race: logistically being prepared for knowing where to go, knowing where to line up, how things are going to go. I find those pieces help a lot.

And then sometimes, if I’ve been working a lot or if I haven’t done all the training I’d like to do, or I’ve gotten into a funk, even if I haven’t done all the training I need to for the day, I use the marathon as the “turn-over-a-new-leaf” day.

It kicks me into gear for feeling better and then I’m back on track. It’s a jump start to get in sync again with myself.

celebration of movement

What other aspects of running—and running marathons in particular—appeal to you?

Celebration. Especially as I get older, I use marathons as celebration of movement.

It reminds me that I have that ability and I should act on that ability. That I’m blessed with arms and legs and strength and this is a place to celebrate that.

And it’s important to keep on showing up for that reason, too. Because maybe someday I won’t be able to. So I kind of think about it that way, too, a lot.

I don’t have enough good excuses not to go.

And then the charities. I like to run in honor of other people.

I’ve done one, just this past Boston, for Run for Research. I was paired up with a little boy with liver disease. The whole relationship is so inspiring—to get to know him and his family. I was also running in honor of my mom who passed away last year.

What keeps you motivated?

The idea that I could be active into my later, later years. Everything I do now is a part of keeping that story alive.

And actually the other people in the race remind me that it’s possible because people show up at all different levels.

I love the idea of being able to move—whether I walk or run or hike—into my 80’s or 90’s if that’s even possible. (Editor’s note: of course it is... just ask Ida.)

inspiration

What inspires you?

I get really inspired by people who overcome their own physical odds and go out and run or move. People like Dick and Ray Hoyt, a father-son team. People who have beat cancer and are out there. Or had some type of injury and have come back.

People who run with a family member because it’s their first time and they’re trying to gain a new lease on life. Everything from the amputees who muscle through it to those who aren’t handicap, but are out for other reasons. I get really inspired around the stories.

What’s next for you?

I’ve really enjoyed stretching myself beyond the marathon with activities that feel new and difficult. The ones that cause me to be a beginner all over again.

Opening up to new things is on the horizon. Not really competitively, just to see it incorporated into the holistic mosaic of things I do.

I haven’t done a triathlon. Even though the swimming part is hard for me, I can see doing one in the future. I adore hiking so if I could do more of that, that’s on the horizon for me. Yoga. If I could do yoga more often, that would be fantastic.

I think about more trail running for sure. Maybe Switzerland.

and the wisdom

What advice would you give a beginning adult just starting out?

Listen to your body.

So that means, well, I’ll give you an example. I had a woman who just turned 60 who decided to sign up for a 1/2 marathon in Central Park. She was going to walk it.

And I said, “Absolutely. And I’m doing it with you.” And so then she had to come.

All throughout her training she was asking me questions. What about this? What about that? I think that sometimes you can get overwhelmed with all you can read. What the local guy at the shoe shop tells you, and how many GUs you’re supposed to ingest.

My advice to her was to just check in with everything. If you’re not getting blisters, then the socks you’re running in are probably fine for you. If you’re not hungry then you don’t need four GUs in the span of 50 minutes.

I think being gentle with yourself as you get going to see how you’re feeling and not pushing through pain is a key driver to being motivated to keep showing up, so that you don’t bounce back out and say, “this is too much. Forget it, I’ll never do this.”

Your mind can go to the threat places so quickly that I think the key is to keep everything in small baby steps. That 10% rule of adding that on every week. Gentle as you go.

And you can start to see progress and you can start to get your mojo. You’ve got some momentum here. And you start to see the possibilities.

So I guess that would be my advice for the beginning. Slow and steady and don’t overdo it. Be reasonable with the amount you can cover distance-wise, too. I think often we want the quick fix.

Two miles is a long distance if you haven’t run at all.

I’ve run over 40 marathons and some days I get out there and a 5K is just about enough. I don’t know what’s going on, but I listen. I check in. What’s happening here? It could be a combination of lack of sleep or dehydration or whatever.

You have to be tuning into YOU and run your own race, not everybody else’s race.

Ann, thanks again so much for sharing your story and the incredible wisdom you’ve developed over the miles.

You can connect with Ann via twitter, facebook and LinkedIn, or visit her website.

welcome

If you’re new here, welcome. You might want to subscribe to my blog via RSS feed or email to stay up to date on the latest posts, or subscribe to the newsletter for all the latest news and additional features from Expand Outdoors (of course, if you’re feeling ambitious, you can do all three!).

Other posts you might enjoy:

• How to Build a Solid Foundation
• Ride Like a Girl
• Becoming a Fitter, Healthier You: A Guide to Getting Started

Photos courtesy of Ann Mehl