41 Years, 120 Miles & My Dad

For Father's Day, I'm sharing a story that's been part of my life for as long as I can remember.

My dad has raced the AuSable River Canoe Marathon for 41 years. I've raced it twice.. both times with him.

While this episode takes you inside one of the toughest endurance events you've probably never heard of, this story isn't really about canoe racing.

It's about fathers and daughters, family traditions, grief, perspective, and the memories we don't realize we're making while we're living them.

From running the Mio Dam portage as a kid, to racing alongside my dad after losing my mom, I'm reflecting on the people who shape us, the traditions that raise us, and how our perspective changes with time.

As a bonus coincidence, this is Episode 41 of Navigating Between the Lines.. and this summer marks my dad's 41st start in the AuSable River Canoe Marathon.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads, father figures, and families celebrating this weekend.

Let's Chat

Transcript

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Okay, snap, snap, snap. And we're back. Second week of summer, you guys. How's everyone doing? I swear that first week you're just like getting acclimated to the summer schedule, but I'm feeling pretty good here. Father's Day is this weekend, and I'm gonna do a little episode in honor of my dad today and talk about one of my favorite events of the summer for my whole life, the Asabo River Canoe Marathon. And before we get started, I just want to say that this story isn't so much about the race itself. It's about the people who shape us, the traditions that raise us, and the things we don't fully appreciate until we're old enough to see them differently. And I also want to say if this weekend is difficult for you in any way or capacity, I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you and I'm really sorry. There are no other words beyond that when you're struggling. If you've been here before, you know I've mentioned it, the Asalba River Canoe Marathon. It is a 120-mile canoe race in northern Michigan that happens every year at the end of July. A quick Google search will tell you that it is the toughest spectator sport in the world. What's pretty incredible is my dad has been racing this race for 40 years. And I was lucky enough to race with him twice. If you've ever ran a marathon or have done any Iron Man's, things like that, you know you have to have a certain level of training just to show up and also grit to get you across that finish line. I have seen a few running marathons, and I think the Chicago marathon was the coolest. And maybe one thing I can compare in terms of watching every spot along the way, there's people watching, music playing, cheering on. The fans really do keep you going. Except the biggest difference between running 26.2 miles and paddling for 120 is about 12 hours, give or take. We hear about people like David Goggins running 100 miles through the desert or Jesse Itzler pushing these insane endurance challenges. And every time I hear those stories, I wonder how they do in a canoe. Everyone knows someone who's run a marathon. Some of you probably know an Iron Man, but if you've never watched 118 boats take off at 9 p.m. and paddle 120 miles throughout the night, you're missing one of the craziest endurances events out there. And I mean that, and I'm gonna tell you, it is hard. Okay, my name's Maggie Fowle, you guys, and this is Navigating Between the Lines. And I'm really pumped to take you on this experience here with me today. Let me take you back to 1986. There is a picture somewhere, I don't know where it is, but I have seen it. And my mom is pregnant on the side of the river. My birthday is August 9th. So she was basically 39 weeks pregnant going along this race for my dad when they were still married. I'm telling you this because when I say I grew up around this race, I mean I've really been around it my entire life. The paddling community is a community that when you're in it, you're in it. And it feels like the biggest thing ever. But if you aren't, it's likely you've never, ever heard of this race, which is insanity to me, but I get it. We watch shows like Alone, Survivor, Ninja Warriors, but somehow there is no nationwide coverage on the canoe marathon. And these athletes that race it, they are pretty incredible. So imagine it's the last week of July, Northern Michigan, Saturday night in a small town called Grayling, Michigan. Last year was the 77th year of this canoe race, and there were 118 boats. So just to give you a little visual, if you know nothing about this, there are two people in the boat. You have a team. Imagine 118 teams. They are lined up in order of their sprint time that they did earlier that week. And there are five boats in a row. So however many lines there are, rows there are of those. And when the cannon goes off at 9 p.m., everybody races to the river for the start of the race. And yes, I said 9 p.m. This race goes all through the night with different pit stops along the way. A pit stop is a place where your feeding team drops you whatever food and drink that you're drinking throughout the night. It's not like a stop and hang where you're chit-chatting. It is literally you're paddling by and they just drop it into your lap and you keep going. And there's barely any fuss. Every athlete prefers different stuff. And some feed teams consist of two people, while others have a whole caravan to make sure everything runs smoothly. So this is a race, and the winners typically finish in about 14 hours and then it goes, you know, up from there. If you're following the race along the way throughout the night, Mayo Dam is really exciting. That's like a 2 a.m., 3 a.m. spot where the paddlers get out of the boat for the first time and they have to portage and run down the dam back into the river. I will tell you what I remember is as soon as I could run, I was up there in the middle of the night and I was running down that portage with my dad. It's definitely some of my favorite memories. Those are the ones I will hang on for life. And now also getting to watch my kids do that is really, really cool. This is also the spot where a lot of spectators call it, and it feels like a long time until the sun comes up again. The first time that I did this race was in 2011, pre-kids, pre-marriage, all of that. The store was just two years old. And somehow I found the time to go north and train every week. I guess that's where my priorities were, but I still think like, how did I manage all of that at that time? They say you need to have 100 training hours in the boat to be ready. I think I got 98. There was never a doubt in my mind that I could finish this race because I had my dad with me. And if you know Bill Taranjo, you know he's gonna finish this race. They have cutoff times along the way. And we were getting to the end, and my cousin Billy said something like, We better hustle up because we were pushing that time, that cutoff time. I remember my dad like turning around, he was shocked because it's never happened to him before. But listen, we finished that race in 18 hours and two minutes with 58 minutes to spare. 3 p.m. the next day, nobody left really at the finish line except our band club, which was all I needed. My poor dad, the longest marathon of his life. One thing about my dad, I got to tell you, he still holds a record from this race from 1993. He never got the win, which I always wish that for him. But his list of stats, and can I call it loyalty to this race, is incredible. You can be the strongest person and win a bodybuilding contest. You can do the ultra marathons, you can be in really, really great shape, but there's something different about paddling. Not everyone that wants to do it can do it. And every year, someone new watches the race for the first time and says, I'm gonna do that next year. And they do, and the next generation of paddlers come in. And now my dad is one of those legends that it's an honor to paddle with him. He's not the fastest guy anymore, but he's still tough as shit and fast. Okay. I think he was like 12th last year, which is insane. You know, I'm gonna look it up. Hang on, I'm gonna look it up really quick. Yeah, he was 12th, 15 hours and 19 minutes. The winners last year came through in 14 hours and 17 minutes, if that gives you just a little bit of a visualization. I cannot say that word. Visualization. Whatever. You know what I'm talking about. There's a few paddlers along with my dad that they've done this race so many times. You know, he knows that river, like the back of his hand. So I'm gonna take you to 2023. It was the summer after my mom had died, and I said, Dad, let's do this again. There's this fear in grief, but also the realization that these moments aren't guaranteed forever. You got to take the opportunity when you have them. Another thing about my dad is he is a handshake guy, and he told me he had already shook with someone about that race and commitment. And I said, Well, I'm really sorry, but I gotta pull the dead mom card here because I think I need this. So now it's 11 years later. I actually felt stronger than I did at 25. But you know what I had was determination. I'm so thankful for the paddlers down here in West Michigan that took the time to paddle with me when you know, I'm not that good. Okay. But I put in the time. I ran, I did 5 a.m. wakeups to get my hours in before the kids would wake up. I drove north and back to get better. You know, at the end of the day, I'm just not a paddler. Like I have paddled this race twice and that's amazing, but I'm not, these people are doing it like all year round, you know. As much as I say I've got those good taronjo jeans, I'm just, I just didn't get the paddling gene. Okay. But like anything, the crowds get you through those first hours. I actually think it's harder to watch the race than paddle it in different ways, of course, but your adrenaline pumps so much while you're in it. And it's so fun. Like I will say, like it's just one of the funnest things ever. That first leg of the river, basically all the way to Mayo, all the homes on the river are out cheering and pushing you along. They know your boat, they see your number. And lucky for me, everyone knows my dad. Quick side story when Grandma Marge was still alive, back in those early days when I was younger, she would always host the pre-marathon party and she would force all of us kids to nap. I can remember she'd be like, You guys have to go lay down. But then any stop along the way we would stop, she would always squeeze herself in through the crowds and she would say, Do you know who I am? I'm Bill Taranjo's mother. And I think about that every single year. She was the best. But after Mayo, okay, it gets cold. The temp drops, that race, my legs kind of stopped working. The circulation wasn't pumping for me. And the fog that year was insane. I remember we were around seasoned paddlers at that time. They would go on to pass us later, but for that little chunk of time, that couple hour stretch, it was one of the coolest experiences that I've ever had. I don't think I've ever said much of this out loud before. But like the moon's shining so bright, so you can see the glare from the moon. The fog was so thick. I mean, everybody talked about the fog, but it almost created this illusion of trees and fog and river, and you don't really know where one starts and the other finishes or where it keeps going. Some boats are saying some stuff, and you can hear the chatter. My brain was full of a million thoughts. And then for a minute, it felt like the whole world got quiet. Here I am with my dad, looking up at the night sky, searching for any signs of my mom. I guess I don't know what everyone else thinks during that time, but I was really deep in my thoughts about all the people who have passed before me. And the gift that I had to be out there competing. Competing is a loose term, but being out there with my dad in this race. And then the sun rises and the temp warms up and the crowds are awake again, and it's like, hell yeah, we made it. Let's get to the finish line. I already told you we were super slow, but at the end of the day, who cares? Not me. My friends came and cheered me along the way, you know, and made it to the finish line. There was a Bacardi and Coke waiting. My family was waiting. There were so many emotions at the end of that race because it was just one, my kids got to see me complete one of the hardest things I've ever done. And then my family's there just beaming so proud again that we made it down these 120 miles. You know, and my friends that took time out of their weekend to come and support me. I remember walking back to the truck and they literally peeled my leggings off for me. I my legs were not working, so I really needed help. So the support was unmatched. Okay. Thank you. I can't speak for all the marathon racers. I can't even speak for my dad here on all of his incredible stories throughout the years. If you're super into this, there is a marathon podcast and stats everywhere I can link for you if you want to know more about that stuff. But what I can say for me, it was never really about the race. I mean, to say that I accomplished that means the world. I definitely did want to do that. But completing something like that with my dad will be a lifelong memory. Like how lucky am I? While my summer weekends right now are spent at the baseball field, mine were at a different campground wherever the weekend's race was that weekend. I keep saying, life humbles you. Every year we gain more perspective. And while crossing that finish line is really cool, I more remember all the other stuff that comes along with this race and this tradition. I feel just very fortunate. Lucky that I grew up around something my dad loves and still loves so much. Lucky that I've been able to see him race this race for 40 years. This summer will mark 41, like five weeks from now, you guys. Lucky that I got to sit beside him and experience it for myself. To you, Dad. Thank you for being a legend. You continue to amaze me. And it's not just because you do this grueling race every year. It's all of it. Everything that this race and lifestyle encompasses. The lessons, the community, the love. I used to think we were trying to finish a canoe race. Looking back, I think we were collecting. Oh my gosh. Looking back, I think we were collecting memories that I didn't know how much I'd need someday. You already know what I'm gonna say here. Life isn't really made up of the big moments, it's made up of all those miles in between. Happy Father's Day, Dad. Thank you for every mile, and I love you so much.