Jeffrey P. Bigham
12/4/2022
I’ve been a long-distance runner that hates marathons for years.
A major reason that I’ve hated marathons is that I’ve never not blown up in a marathon. My first marathon in 2004 was the Seattle Marathon. I was on ~2:35 pace, then somewhere around 22 miles, a hill plus playing red rover with walkers who decided to string themselves across the whole road led to some 7 minute miles, and a respectable, but, slower, 2:39.
Something similar happened in Columbus a year later, and I ran 2:41. In 2008, I got hurt a month before the Nottingham Marathon in England, but I had already signed up, so after taking 2 weeks completely off, I gave it a shot. I ran low 6-minute pace through the first half, then ended up in 2:53. I ran a 2:56 at the Whidbey Island Marathon during my first academic job search (not good timing!) with a similar blowup.
Then I got smart and didn’t run another marathon for 7 years. But, during this time my wife was getting into marathoning and doing it pretty well (she qualified for the Olympic Trials in 2020, although she also had a number of bad races). I forgot the lessons of the past and ran the California International Marathon in 2016 in a total blowup 2:59. This is the first marathon that I ran where I had Strava — you can see the totally abysmal splits. Yes, that really was a 1:21:02 half marathon followed up by a blow-up 1:38, and even that belies the reality — most of my miles up through 19 or so were ok. But, then I hit some really slow ones. I even “ran” a 8:47. I walked a lot in that one, and mostly don’t remember the miles (which is weird, because I remember everything).
Six years later (this year, 2022) I forgot again how much I hate marathons and ran CIM again. Granted, I was in better shape. I had run a 1:15 half a few months before. I was doing long fast training runs, including a 20 miler at 6:40 on uneven terrain in Pittsburgh 3 weeks before. I was also racing a lot, having done a half marathon in 1:16 six weeks before and a ten miler in (what should have been, if not for a puking incident in the last 100 meters) 58:25 four weeks before.
Originally, I was going to try to break 2:40. If you’ve been keeping track of the dates, this would have been pretty big deal: meet or exceed my best ever at age 41. But, the week before the marathon didn’t go quite as planned. The whole family had been sick. I was feeling run down and possibly sick. I had planned to travel to Sacramento with Jen, but my parents couldn’t watch the kids, so it was just me. (Jen was just going to do CIM as a training run, with a real target for the Houston Marathon in January, which is why it was decided that I should go to CIM).
The day before the marathon, I decided to scale back my ambition — I decided to start off at just under ~6:10 pace (~2:41) during the downhill part of the course, and then see what I could do on the second. I did pretty well at the first part of that plan, coming through the half at 1:20:30. I even felt good, relaxed. Running this pace is never “easy” for me, but I wasn’t breathing hard. My legs weren’t straining. I avoided common problems. I briefly dared to think maybe it was going to work out!
Around 16 miles I started to feel it coming. I slowed to 6:20s and then 6:30s. By 22 miles or so, I couldn’t keep that up. I ended up running my last several miles in the 7s, with my last mile the slowest in 7:30. In the end, I ran a 2:49:11. This is my best time in a long time (since Columbus in 2005!), but it’s the hardest way to break 2:50, lol.
Yes, yes, I could have run smarter (e.g., more conservatively). But, where’s the fun and glory in that? Haha. Fine, there’s a lot, and I really respect folks who are able to predict their desired time and stick with a plan. I think I’d be better at it if I ran more marathons. I should probably also do more targeted training for marathons.
If you’ve not run a marathon, it’s hard to appreciate just how terrible those last miles are if you’re blowing up, hitting the wall, whatever you want to call it. But, it happens to many runners every race. Suddenly trudging along at 7-minute-pace, much slower than my average, you’d expect me to be only getting passed (and I was getting passed a lot), but I was still blowing by people!
The people I was passing might as well have been zombies. Hell, I was a zombie. They were zombie zombies. Some were still running, but over to the side. Some were walking. Some would stop for a second to stretch or just to stare. They were having a really hard time, and these weren’t newbies. To get 22 miles into a race at whatever pace they were running, these folks are damn good runners.
And, that’s when it hit me. When I was passing a zombie runner still moving, running 8 or 9 or 10 minute pace after having run the previous 20 miles at 6 minutes per mile or under, I got why the marathon is so powerful: even the greats struggle. I don’t mean “miss your time by a few seconds” struggle. I mean they completely blow up, “all you want to do is stop but you know you have six more miles” struggle. And, they finish (or at least many of them do).
Everyone struggles because it’s impossible to know how you’re going to feel at mile 22 when you’re at mile 10, let alone mile 5, and if you don’t push it then you won’t run your best. It’s also incredibly easy to not have a plan or not stick to a plan or be too optimistic or even just to have a bad day. Incidentally, the winner of CIM 2021 ran 2:11 and came back in 2022 to run 2:17. He started at 5 minute pace (2:11 pace) but ran the last 10k at 6 minute pace. That’s basically my CIM 2022 blow-up race (just a minute or so faster for each mile, haha). He gave it a shot, finished the race, and I admire it.
The marathon sets up tragedies.
But, it also sets up legends, and that’s inseparable from the possibility of tragedy. People make it through sometimes, and some heroes can even reliably make it through (although, having spent some time with elite runners, I’ll say that this is pretty exaggerated). But, it’s also fantastic and awe-inspiring, and makes the marathon story even better. Every athlete that goes out there knows they’re risking becoming a blown up zombie jogger wogging along the course. The elites usually quit rather than zombie, but not always! Regardless, they line up anyway. And, they line up even after that happens, and even when it happens again.
As I was finishing my last miles, getting passed by hordes of people, and passing the occasional zombie, that’s when I re-found the marathon love I never had.
I’m not saying I’m excited to sign up for another marathon (I am not!), but, give me some slack, I just finished my struggle an hour ago and my legs ache.
But, I’ve found a reason to love the marathon, which is progress?
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