Why Do People Run Marathons?

Why do people run marathons? As someone who runs, I never actually sat down and thought about why people would put themselves through the grind of running 26.2 miles. That was until Nike invited me to run the Chicago Marathon.

Since I’ve never run a full marathon before, I kept a log of my training. This following isn’t meant to evangelize people into a life of personal fitness and wellness. Writing down my thoughts was my way of keeping track of progress during training as well as to keep from going crazy throughout physically and mentally grueling process. This is a journal of my experience and if you want the TL;DR version, just go all the way to the end.

I’m fucking shook.

Got an email from a contact at Nike asking if I’d be interested in running the Chicago Marathon. I enjoy running, but I’ve never really thought of tackling 26.2 miles before. The reason I run is more for stress relief and so I can eat pizza without guilt. It’s less about setting personal records or collecting medals.

I did do a half marathon before and it was the most physically painful thing I’ve ever had to endure. My mind still has flashbacks of my muscles cramping and my heart pounding during the last leg of that race, and here I am considering putting myself through that pain again—times two.

All things considered, putting my body on the line may not be the worst thing. It’s terrifying to think about, but the best things in life are usually on the other side of things that terrify us. It might force me to stop eating, drinking, and smoking certain things that haven’t always been the best choices for me.

So, what do I have to lose? If I die trying to run 26.2 miles, at least I know I had a good life and I’ll be going out in the most glorious way possible.

July 15

Nike linked me with a running coach, Jess Woods. We had our kickoff meeting at NYHQ earlier this week where I got geared up with a couple of the latest Nike Zoom running sneakers, the Pegasus Turbo 2 and the Zoom Fly 3, and she walked me through the program she set up for me over the next few months.

It just so happens that this first week of training is the week of ComplexCon Chicago. I’ve been through every ComplexCon so far. None of them have been filled with free time behind the scenes.

At ComplexCon Chicago, I planned on skipping the pre-event team drinks and post-event afterparties in exchange for going to bed early to wake up at 5AM to get these workouts in. My success rate was about 50 percent.

After we shot Full Size Run with Allen Iverson, the team decided to celebrate (a lot) and I woke up to a video a coworker sent me from the night before. It was Trinidad Jame$ trying to put me up on his shoulders and dropping me on the sidewalk after we left the Puma x Def Jam after party. His co-host Matt Welty tried to do it too and also dropped me, which would explain why my knee is black and blue this morning and I completely feel like shit.

Shamefully, nights like this are a pretty common occurrence for people in our line of work. I don’t say this to brag, but more as a description of an occupational hazard: I go to a lot of events with free alcohol. Alcohol is somewhat of a social crutch that helps me navigate through awkward conversations at industry events. A lot of my colleagues are able to walk a straight line and not fall into a life of debauchery, but I’m definitely guilty of falling, literally and figuratively, into temptation on occasion. My body can't afford to pay the price for mornings like this, so I'm going to have to choose when and where I spend my nights out wisely.

When I first decided to do this, the goal was just to finish. But the more I thought of it, I should put something measurable on it.

I go down a rabbit hole of Google searches and come across the time Puff Daddy ran a marathon in 2003. Puffy ran the NYC marathon with an official time of 4 hours 14 minutes and 54 seconds and he only trained eight weeks for it. We were also about the same age when he ran his first and only marathon, which MTV made a documentary about. I was reading how Puffy’s goal was to beat Oprah’s marathon time, which was around 4 hours and 40 minutes (he also raised over $2 million for charity.)

I’m not a fast runner, but I know I could run faster than Oprah. I may not be able to finish as fast as Puffy either, but I could get close, so if there was any place to set a goal, I guess that would be as good a place as any: 4:40.

My ankle has been feeling sore after long runs, so I went to the doctor to have it checked it out. The doctor gave me a steroid shot for the pain and sets me up for an X-Ray and MRI. The MRI results were not good. The doctor says I have some damage because of overuse and I have to stop running or do any type of workout on my feet for at least two weeks to let it heal. I also have to wear a lace-up brace around my ankle until I see her again.

Just a few days ago I was starting to finally feel confident about being able to do this. Now I just want to be alone in the dark and sit with the fact that I might not even be able to try.

I have to tell my coach and friends about the bad news. It’s a little embarrassing. I hope they don’t think I’m trying to back out or make excuses. Every human being has their share of disappointments in life, but this was something different that I’ve never felt before. I’d describe it as a mix of the rejection you feel from a sudden breakup mixed with the regret of finding out you’ve been doing something wrong for years without knowing it.

Maybe this was a higher power’s way of telling me I was too focused on this single event. I have a tendency to push myself to extremes and I’ve been really obsessive over the past few weeks.

I’ve always looked at running as an escape valve of sorts—an outlet for me to relieve my frustrations in my life. Perhaps I’ve been trying to exhaust myself to the point where I don’t even care about my problems anymore instead of sitting down and actually dealing with them. Now I’m at a place where I literally can’t run away from my problems.

It’s been a full seven days without running and I’m getting anxious. After each day that passes that I can’t run, I feel myself less and less prepared for the marathon. The pain in my ankle seems to have subsided, so I consider breaking the doctor’s orders and testing it out on the treadmill. I ask my friend, who happens to be a Nike master trainer, Joe Holder, to get his thoughts first.

“It’s a real Sophie’s choice,” Holder texts me after I ask what kind of risk I’ll put myself in if I start running now. “If you wait, you might not be able to run the marathon well. If you run now, you might not be able to run at all.”

After weighing the worst of two bad options, I choose to keep myself sidelined for another week. During this time I find myself spiraling downwards into old habits. With the uncertainty about whether or not I can continue with my training, I help myself to a little vodka. A little vodka turns into a few vodkas. A few vodkas turn into a lot of vodkas. A lot of vodkas turn into four consecutive late nights doing things while drinking a lot of vodka. I’m not proud, but the lesson is learned: it is a lot easier to coast downhill than it is to climb uphill. One small bad decision always has the potential to kickstart a series of bad decisions.

August 21

I saw the doctor for what's hopefully the last time until the marathon. She tells me I can start weaning off wearing the brace and get back to running at my full body weight in seven days. I asked her how I'll know if I'm healed and she said, “Don’t look for pain. When it’s there, you’ll know and then you should see us ASAP.”

I feel so liberated to not have to wear a brace around my foot. It was messing up the shape of my sneakers and wouldn’t even fit in some pairs. I can go back to wearing all the shoes in my closet instead of the same pairs of black cement Air Jordan IIIs and Element React 87s. Most importantly, it feels good to put my body in motion after not being able to run for two weeks.

The marathon is six weeks away and I still haven’t done a significant double-digit long run yet. It’s making me feel nervous. I am, however, feeling stronger and able to put more miles on my feet. I’m just worried it’ll be too little, too late.

Coach Woods hit me up about the final five weeks’ plan. Fourteen miles on deck for this upcoming weekend’s long run. That’s a little over a half marathon distance, which is the farthest I’ve ever run before. It’s going to be the real test of whether I’m ready for Chicago or not.

There's an African proverb that goes: “If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

I’ll admit that I’m not much of a social runner. I prefer short distances alone on a treadmill versus weekly run clubs. The reason I think I picked up running is because it’s fairly solitary. I don’t need to join a league or find a partner, but it turns out that running can be very social.

A friend of mine who was also training for a marathon hit me up and asked if I wanted to do a long run with him. I didn’t realize how helpful it is to have a partner to run with you when you’ve got a long distance ahead. I also didn’t realize how much more enjoyable running could be when you’re with someone else. Sometimes it’s easy to think we’re the only people going through what we’re going through when we choose to be by ourselves all the time. It’s just not true.

Fourteen miles done without a lot of pain. It's a good sign and I’m confident about being able to go up to 16 miles next week.

I went for my 16-mile long run yesterday and it wasn’t pretty. During the last six miles, it felt like my right foot was stepping on broken glass. I could barely walk toward the end of it. If that happens to me during the marathon, I’m not going to be able to finish.

I had to put my ankle brace back on and limp my way to the office. I made an emergency appointment with the doctor again today and she officially gave me the bad news I was already expecting: “Take a week off of running.”

My plan for 18 miles this weekend isn’t going to happen. Being able to do actually do the marathon is still up in the air too. Despite the disappointment, at least I know for certain where my body is: not where I want it to be, but it’s the only one I got.

September 27

I joined a Nike training session that was led by Holder. It was a group of five people who were also running the marathon for the first time.

We got a rundown on the sneaker that was suggested for running the day of in a couple weeks—the Vaporfly Next%. A product specialist went through the finer details of the shoe, which included ZoomX cushioning and a carbon fiber plate that’s supposed to spring you forward. If I don’t make it to race day, at least I’ll have a pair of shoes for one.

In the group, I heard about everyone’s training progress. Some people in the group got up to 22 miles. Others completed 6 miles just this morning. I could barely walk without limping just a few days ago and it made me feel unsure about my own progress.

I told Holder what was going on and he suggested modifying the rest of my workouts to a shorter five mile run, followed by 10 miles instead of the 20 I had planned. When I asked why I’m not doing the same type of mileage everyone else is he told me:

“Everybody's plan is different. Your training is your own. Trust the process.”

I woke up out of bed this morning with this heavy feeling of panic. It was almost like when you have a science project due in school the next day and you haven’t started it yet. That’s what I feel like going into this marathon. I wasn’t able to get through the 10 miles I ran yesterday without some significant pain and most marathon plans suggest you get to at least get to 20 during your training.

When I see Holder, I tell him about my last workout like I was a disgruntled Starbucks customer complaining about the free Wi-Fi not loading fast enough to the manager.

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he told me quite frankly. “What we’re trying to do is increase your threshold of pain.”

I finally realized that if I stopped expecting the whole process to be pain free, I could be better prepared to manage the pain when it comes. There really is no avoiding the hurt during 26.2 miles, or life in general. It's more about when it's going to hurt. What's more important is the kind of attitude you're going to have when you go through it.

I made it to Chicago. It’s less than 48 hours away from the marathon and at this point, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

Is it possible to feel every emotion at once? That's the only way I can describe what this lead up is like. I feel unprepared, but primed to go. There are nerves, but I'm calm. I keep myself centered by telling myself: "Let's just see what happens."

At the hotel, I bump into Fred who’s a Nike photographer and marathoner. He told me the story of how he ran his first half marathon to now doing about six half marathons a year. On average, he runs about 90 miles a week. “From that first one, I was addicted,” he said about his hitting his first major PR while making a gesture like someone shooting heroin into their arm. It was fascinating to see to how running marathons could be this infinite challenge where you’re constantly trying to better your last time, and in turn, yourself.

Speaking of vices, if I had felt this escalating and deescalating range of emotions three months ago, I probably would've found myself hitting the bar or reaching for a joint. I have no urge to at this moment. The only intoxication I'm interested in right now is this high Fred was talking about.

October 14

Today is the day. I’m realistic about where my body is, so I know I’m probably not going to beat Oprah’s time. My goal now is to just finish strong. It's enough for me to not walk or limp across the finish line.

My plan for the marathon is to take the first 10 miles nice and slow by half walking and half running. I’ll pick it up to a light jog for the next 10 miles and give it everything I have left for the last six.

What training doesn’t prepare you for is the fanfare during a major marathon. When you’re alone on the treadmill, there aren’t strangers cheering you on or holding signs, some of which are funny. One that really resonated: “Pain is also the French word for bread.”

There’s actually a science to smiling through when you’re body feels like it’s struggling. When you do, your brain sends endorphins to the rest of your body that’ll help relieve some of the pain.

Some would say the hardest part of running a marathon is towards the end. But for me, it was the beginning. When you start off and hear a crowd of excited people for the first time, adrenaline is pumping and you have to fight wanting to go faster than you plan to.

It was embarrassing to take those walk breaks during the first part of the race. People would pass me while patting me on the back with uninspired encouragement like, “You’ve got this,” or “Don’t quit.” I think that was their polite way of telling me to get out of the way. Other runners were a bit more straightforward about it. Either way, I had to pace myself and get through the embarrassment of those first 10 miles to have the finish I wanted. A marathon is a lot like life in that way. You have to be patient and not get too wrapped up in the people cheering you on in the beginning and not get too beat down by the people thinking you're unfit to run the same race as them.

I could give you a mile-by-mile breakdown of the other signs I read, the people I saw, and the Chicago neighborhoods I passed through, but there isn’t much more to the rest of the marathon besides that. I (mostly) ran 26.2 miles and made it to the finish line. It felt intoxicating when they put that medal around my neck, until I was hit with the feeling of physical exhaustion a few hours after. Which leads me to the question that kickstarted this whole process: why do people run marathons?

One thing I know for sure is that it's not because of the muscle soreness or lost toenails. For me, the answer was the process itself. In the end, there was more value in the daily habits I picked up preparing for the marathon than the medal I got afterwards.

That moment of happiness crossing the finish line only lasts but so long, until you'll need another fix. Granted, it's a good dependence to have compared to the ones I used to regularly want—but still fleeting. What I learned about how I deal with disappointment, failure, frustration, and fear was worth going through all over again. Most importantly, I learned that pain is also the French word for bread.