The Paavo Nurmi Marathon turns 40

Tradition, community support and a tough course keeps 'em coming back

by JoAnna Haugen

Facing the rising sun, the 2006 Paavo Nurmi Marathon runners set out. Photo by Leland Hix

Its just past 7 a.m. on the second Saturday of August, and the sun is starting to peek above the treetops. A cool nip in the air wraps itself around me, but Ive taken off my sweatshirt so I can stretch before the race begins.

The starting line for the Paavo Nurmi Marathon lies in north central Upson, Wisconsin, 26.2 long miles from the finish line in the heart of Hurley. The crowd possesses a jovial, laid-back aura - significantly different than the surge of energy I felt earlier in the summer at the start of a much larger race in Duluth, Minnesota. Here, spectators blend in with the runners, old friends from previous races greet each other and new runners are immediately drawn into the camaraderie of the marathon, affectionately known as the Paavo.

I ran the Paavo Nurmi Marathon in 2006, but the allure and beauty of this race, now in its 40th year, is its timelessness. The marathon is named after a famed Finnish runner who won nine gold and three silver medals in 12 events at the Olympic Games in the 1920s. Though Nurmi himself never actually ran the Paavo, his legend is found in all aspects of the race.

"We're a small event, says Ricky Kelly, race advisor and director for the past 15 years. "About half of our runners return every year, and because this year is an anniversary year, we're expecting even more." Kelly predicts 350 people will run the marathon this year, on August 9, while another 400 will cover the course as part of 2- or 5-person relay teams.

The Paavo is not an elite race but rather one built upon tradition. I was impressed with the simplicity of the race packet and the fact that Kelly herself greeted runners as they picked them up. No racers receive special treatment, and memories hold more importance than finish times.

The race has changed hands and been threatened with being discontinued on numerous occasions. "It has been a labor of love for the race to go on," Kelly says. Numerous potential big-name sponsors (and their demands) have been refused to retain the small-town, traditional feel of the Paavo. It has thrived nonetheless on donations from small local businesses and the countless hours put in by volunteers.

The night before the race every year a torchlight ceremony is held. This year, the Paavo's founder and current president of the U.S. Sports Academy, Tom Rosandich, will attend with a handful of runners who ran the marathon in its first year.

Four miles in and I've already made new friends. Craig has run the race before and is currently on a quest to run a marathon in all 50 states. He is pacing his nephew for whom this is the first marathon. They are running with Cindy who has run into Craig at past ultra-distance trail running races. Craig's running partner is also with the group. He's quiet and just coming off of Grandma's Marathon in Duluth.

Because so many Paavo runners have run the race previously, a host of stories are passed on through the years. Known for its notoriously hilly and challenging course, the race is the longest-running marathon in Wisconsin and a true love for many runners who have made the race part of their lives.

"My favorite thing about our race is the guys who do it every year and truly love it," Kelly says. "When the old-time runners come back year after year and say thank you because it means so much to them, it gives us a reason to keep it going even when it can be so difficult."

It's not just runners who keep coming back. Without its volunteers, the Paavo wouldn't exist. There are nearly as many volunteers as there are runners and many of them also have been involved since the first edition. Every year more families are making the Paavo a family affair.

"It's a generational thing," Kelly says, "and the T-shirts we design for the volunteers are just as important as the ones we make for the runners."

As I turn off of Highway 77 onto a six-mile stretch of road that cars and spectators aren't allowed on, water stations are manned by plentiful locals who laugh and cheer as we pass. One woman offers me a piece of banana bread, and I'm surprised how good it tastes.

Three miles of this stretch are dedicated to Mary Bange (a runner who won seven individual Paavo titles), Harry Rizzie (a broadcaster of every Paavo Nurmi Marathon until he retired), the Rokola family (who manned the 24-mile aid station for many years) and Connie Loden (who helped for many years to ensure the accuracy of race results). Kelly promises a new dedication this year.

As I push into mile 25 of the marathon I meet more spectators lining the street. Some runners struggle to take one more step while others are running like they're just jogging a leisurely 5K. The long, daunting 26.2 mile run is reduced to yards, feet and then inches until I cross beneath a large Finish sign strung across the road.

Craig has probably finished long before me. The last time I saw him he was running out of sight around mile eight while his nephew stretched his legs on the side of the road.

The magic of the Paavo Nurmi Marathon doesn't end here. Per tradition, I stop by the refreshment table to sample the moijakka, a Finnish stew served alongside fruit and drinks. Later that afternoon I visit with fellow runners and volunteers at the picnic. Top finishers chat with those who walked the course. I snack on my chips with a father who ran with his 15-year-old son.

The picnic doubles as an awards ceremony. But runners and volunteers alike gather there primarily to talk about how the course felt this time around. Given the fact that so many will have a shared history with the race, they swap stories old and new. It's a fitting end to a race that thrives on a true sense of community.

In its 40th incarnation, the Paavo will welcome everyone back as well as make room for new runners. The opening ceremony torch will be lit, runners will chat along the course and spectators and volunteers will cheer them on. As each dedicated mile marker goes by, so, too, will the tradition that has kept the Paavo running for as long as it has.

JoAnna Haugen is a runner and freelance writer in Las Vegas.