As I got clobbered on the hills of Pittsburgh on the second half of the marathon in May 2023, I swore that that was my last marathon. I was miserable. I struggled. There is a certain hell that one goes through in the upper miles of a marathon. In that race, my 24th marathon, I’d had it.
I quit marathoning more than a thousand times over the final miles on the unforgiving hills of Pittsburgh.
Only…
I didn’t quit.
A few months later, in November 2023, I ran the New York City Marathon.
A year after that, I ran New York again.
A few months later, in January 2025, I completed the Dopey Challenge at Walt Disney World.
As I prepared to run that race, I knew for certain, that that marathon would be my last.
It was the right choice.
But after just about a quarter century of being a marathon runner, it hasn’t been an easy choice.
***
For close to twenty-five years when I thought of myself as a runner, I thought of myself as a marathoner.
When there was a challenge, any challenge, I thought, “I can get through that, I run marathons. I am stronger than anybody or anything.” And I was.
I thought, “Most people quit when things get difficult. Not me. I keep going.”
I sometimes find it difficult to think that way right now.
As far as marathons, I’m not going to keep going. My marathon days are over.
***
Because I stopped running marathons, I sometimes I feel as though I’m a quitter.
I’m not a quitter.
But, at times, it still feels that way.
***
I has not been easy to see myself in such a different light.
I’m not the type to back away from challenges, big or small.
I still believe I can do anything.
And I can.
Running 26.2 miles just won’t be one of those anythings I do any longer.
***
There is a difference between being able to do something and having to do something.
I could run a marathon right now. I’m still pretty quick. In my last New York, I finished at 4:33:09, which isn’t bad for a 56-year-old guy. (I ran the WDW, my last race, in 5:05:40, which considering it was the fourth race in four days, was pretty good. It was a Top 25% finish of all marathoners that day.)
So, while I still could run a marathon, I simply don’t need to run them any longer.
Part of me wants to keep going forever, but it’s not something I’ll ever do again.
***
An old adage of running is to “listen to the body.”
I am listening.
My body has told me in the upper miles of the last many marathons that it doesn’t need to working that hard for four and a half hours (or more).
But, it’s not just the races. My body has told me during the long training seasons to prepare for the marathon that it doesn’t need to do twenty-mile training runs over the hills of Bergen County, New Jersey.
I also don’t need to do 40 or 50-mile weeks. (Last December, to prepare for Disney, I ran 63 miles in one week. That was a bit… insane.)
***
There was a time when I was super human when it came to marathons. I was an animal. I was fast and I kept getting faster. Each of my first 7 marathons was faster than the one before it. That race in Chicago (below) was the fastest I’d ever run a marathon:
NYC 2002 = 4:20:47
NYC 2003 = 4:11:44
Balt 2004 = 3:55:51
NJ 2005 = 3:51:21
NYC 2005 = 3:50:59
WDW 2006 = 3:34:34
CHI 2006 = 3:25:16
I do have some very happy memories to reflect back on.
***
One of the biggest transitions that has been difficult comes when I’m listening to my workout music. (I still run. I work out every single day – most often twice a day. I’m just not running tons and tons and tons of miles.)
When I hear a song that always got me through the toughest runs, the highest miles, and the biggest challenges… I sometimes feel a little sad.
In short, I’m no longer running down a dream.
You can stop me now.
And I don’t believe I can fly.
You get the idea.
***
When I hear the lines:
“Look, if you had one shot and one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted,
would you capture it, or just let it slip?”
I have to remind myself that I’m not letting it slip.
Rather than thinking how I’ll no longer go the 26.2 mile distance, I have to remember that I did seize everything for a quarter of a century.
I captured the moments a million times and more.
***
Marathon runners can have obsessive tendencies. We often don’t relish or appreciate the runs we are completing. There are two questions we ask each other after every race. First, “How did you do?” and then, very quickly after, “When’s your next race?”
We’re always looking ahead to the next race. We’re not satisfied with completing 18 marathons. We need the 19th. We’re not satisfied with the 25th marathon, we need the 26th. It goes on and on.
I needed to break free of that mentality.
***
Still, there are many transitions I go through. The other day I had an old pair of gloves in my hand. I thought, “I’ll save these to toss during my next marathon.” Then I realized, there won’t be a next marathon.
That is just one example of how much marathoning permeated my daily thoughts. The next race was always on my mind.
***
There is a line from an old poem (Desiderata by Max Ehrmann) that reads:
“Take kindly the council of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.”
There is a lot of truth in that poem, whether I like it or not.
***
And while I know I won’t be running marathons, and while the transition has not been all together easy, I am slowly getting past the self-doubt, and all that accompanies all of that.
I am getting ready for my baseball season. I still pitch in a 35-plus wood baseball (not softball) league. I am throwing hard twice a week to get ready for the season. Most guys my age don’t throw 200 pitches at a time in their basements. I do.
I am registered for the Spring Lake 5-Mile Race. That’s not a marathon, but it is something. I won’t run the 26.2 mile distance any longer, but I never said I’d stop running.
There’s also a race I have always wanted to run that comes less than a week after the NYC Marathon making one I never signed up to do called the Rocky Run in Philadelphia. I plan to run that. It’s also not 26.2, but it is… something.
I loved the marathon, but it was time to let it go.
***
Transitions aren’t easy.
But they are part of life.
I’m working hard to embrace this transition.
I also know something big is coming. I don’t know what that next challenge will be, but when it comes, I’ll be ready.
I’m done as a marathoner. That will take some time to get used to. Maybe I’ll never get used to saying that.
But I’m not done. No way. Not nearly.
Not at all.
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