The Austin Marathon
One of my favorite weekends in college happened last month. This is a story of training, emotion, and camaraderie culminating in one single event: the Austin Marathon. As I reflect on the steps along the way, I hope this serves as a journal entry that my friends and I can revisit down the line. Perhaps, others may relate as well. Thank you to all who have supported me through it all.
Philadelphia Marathon - November 19, 2023
The starting point of everything can be traced back three years. My friend, Eli, threw out the idea one day: I want to run a marathon. In a podcast episode recorded shortly after, we discussed the possibility of running a marathon as one of our 2023 New Year's resolutions. Back then, running wasn’t the culture-altering sensation that it is now, with run clubs littering city parks and marathon times as a form of social currency. The statement was mostly rooted in arrogance. Eli and I both grew up competitive swimmers and we both had our fair share of aimless miles over the pandemic. It felt reasonable that, with minimal training, completing a marathon would be possible.
The New Year’s resolution was severely procrastinated, and it wasn’t until the summer that we acted on it. At the time, Eli was going to school just outside of Philadelphia, so we signed up for the Philly marathon right before Thanksgiving. I was interning in Austin and spent the vast majority of time with the same three friends. One of them, Liam, grew up swimming just as I did. We shared the same experience of trading swimming for weightlifting and running during the pandemic. Despite being a year younger, Liam was better (and still is) than me at both disciplines. So, for the next three months, I championed him as my coach. In the Texas heat, we dialed in on everything from running and lifting to experimenting with low-calorie recipes. I’ll add, however, that we awarded our hard work with plenty of all-you-can-eat cheat meals throughout the summer.
That summer of training laid the foundation for the real training block as school started in September. I had around 10 weeks to get in marathon running shape. The only problem was I had no idea what I was doing. The plan was simple: some easy miles throughout the week and a long run on the weekend as race day got closer. On top of my ignorance, I battled constant knee pain and my only training partner was halfway across the country – running was lonely. Coming into the Philadelphia marathon, I hadn’t consumed a single gel and my longest run was under 17 miles (65% of the total 26.2).
Before the race, Eli and I agreed to run the entire thing together, with the loose goal of going under the coveted 4-hour mark (9 minutes per mile pace). I severely doubted the likelihood of that happening. Eli remained optimistic.
The adrenaline and crowd energy carried us through the first 20 miles, but the lack of preparation caught up to me. I struggled hard for the last several miles, all while Eli seemed to be enjoying himself – taunting me by pointing at the ground in front of me. At mile 23, as I limped through simultaneous quad and hamstring cramps, an inflatable dinosaur trotted past me. I’ve never felt so defeated.
We crossed the finish line holding hands. Not only did we finish the entire thing, but we did it in under four hours. The box had finally been checked, the resolution completed. I told myself that I’d never do it again.
Training for the marathon was largely an individual task. The race itself, however, wasn’t. Eli and I ran it side by side – even when I stopped at the porta-potty. At the finish line, we were met with a huge crowd of our friends and family who came just to support us. This was my first feeling of a running community. Sure, the majority of them weren’t runners (yet), but this race brought so many of my loved ones together. After a long limp back to the hotel and a much-needed shower, we met up and indulged in some heavily deserved Chinese food.
Austin Marathon - February 18, 2024
Marathons are innately selfish. The hundreds of hours spent running strains the other parts of your life, including relationships. The reputation of the insufferable marathoner makes sense: constantly tired, won’t stop talking about running. There is, however, a silver lining.
Running is contagious. Unimpressed, our friends Kevin and Kevin decided to sign up for their own marathon. Not only did they want to finish, but they wanted to beat us. At the same time, Eli’s parents also started running, completing their own marathon last year.
Watching the Kevins train for last year’s Austin marathon was massively different from training for my own. Mainly, they had each other to run with. While I envied that, it was inspiring to watch as they chased their own goals – even if it was from the sidelines. I also supported them in any way I could, from sharing lessons from my training block to joining them on easier runs.
I have fond memories from last year’s Austin marathon. From coffee brewing at 4 am to driving along the route to cheer, it felt like I was participating in the race despite not running. Like Philly, friends and family met them at the finish line. Again, I saw a community congregating for a single race. We show up for the people we love. For the second time, a marathon exemplified that. The end of their race brewed some other emotions inside me. I felt abundantly proud and extremely happy for them. Simultaneously, the competitive nature inside me ached: Eli and I had been beaten.
As the excitement of the weekend washed away, I stopped running. With nothing to look forward to, running lost some of its novelty. Sure, I went out for a couple of miles here and there, but the majority of my exercise consisted of weightlifting and basketball. That continued for all of 2024 until October.
Ironman 70.3 Florida - December 15, 2024
On October 5th, three of my friends competed in Ironman 70.3 Waco. The same arrogance that led Eli and I to sign up for our first marathon crept up on me. I swam in high school, biked growing up, and ran a marathon. How hard could it be? The only thing was, I didn’t want to do it alone.
It took about a week of convincing before the Kevins and I committed to the race. Ironman 70.3 Florida. The first step was buying bikes – a full-day excursion to beautiful San Antonio. From there, was the slow acquisition of more gear. We had to buy everything from tire repair kits to the triathlon suit we’d wear during the race. With every additional purchase, the race seemed to get more real.
On the training side of things, we were equally as lost. Comparatively, marathon training seemed easy: just run a bunch. The introduction of two additional disciplines and the transitions between them brought on a completely different method of training, including “brick” workouts where you run right after biking.
Luckily, God sent two knights in shining armor (or lycra). Enter Nathan and Will. Nathan (my girlfriend’s older brother) had just gotten into triathlon, adopting a pay-to-win approach. Will (Nathan’s coworker) was a veteran, with several half Ironmans and one full under his belt. Like two shepherds and a herd of three sheep, they guided us with training advice and old gear. Despite just recently racing in Waco, Nathan and Will agreed to join us in Florida.
I finally got to experience what the Kevins did: training with others. While the workouts themselves were a lot more rigorous than those for the marathon, suffering through it together made it that much better. The excitement of training led me to sign up for two more races following Ironman 70.3 Florida in December: the Austin Marathon in February and Ironman Texas (full) in April. Impulsive? Maybe a little.
December 15th came quickly, and the Kevins and I were soon on our flight to Haines City, Florida. The entire weekend flew by. The race was hard. It was a hot, hilly course – a true test of fitness and willpower. Being my first triathlon there were a good amount of surprises, including chafing from my wetsuit and forgetting my running bib in transition. More memorable, however, was the time before and after.
The rest of the weekend was extremely sedentary. Rest before and recovery after, leaving hours of sitting around the living room of our Airbnb. When I think back to that weekend, my mind goes to the conversations rather than the race itself. It was a time of nonstop hanging out, facilitated by six hours of swimming, biking, and running.
The idea of bonding through sport was never foreign to me. To this day, some of my closest friends are from my childhood club swim team. Hours upon hours in and out of the pool built deep relationships. In college, pick-up basketball was a way I built closer relationships. In fact, it was the way Kevin and I got close in the first place. This, however, felt different.
I think the nuance lies in formality. Swim team was formal. With organized practices, coaches, and a meet schedule, swimming was something we did whether we wanted to or not. We showed up every day and did what we were told. Pick-up basketball was informal. We played when we felt like it, messed around, and just had fun.
Training for endurance races lies somewhere in the middle. Chasing a goal, you follow a discipline-building training schedule that’s meant to be taken seriously. At the same time, it’s a hobby, self-inflicted, and meant to be enjoyable. This duality allows you to connect on a deeper level with others. You get the lighthearted entertainment of any group activity while being challenging enough to foster mutual respect.
Austin Marathon - February 16, 2025
After a couple recovery days, it was time to start the Austin Marathon training block. The race was two months away.
It’s widely known that people who run a marathon won’t stop talking about it. Heck, this blog post itself is proof of that. For the months leading up to the marathon, I fully embraced that stereotype, taking it upon myself to get as many of my friends to sign up as possible. With constant nagging and support from the Kevins, we were able to convince nearly all our closest friends.
Coffee runs turned into actual runs. Lazy Saturday mornings turned into long runs along the marathon route. Normal conversation turned into training updates. Despite the busyness of our own lives, we all shared one common goal.
Up until this point I’ve written a lot about how much I love the community aspect of running. Training alongside others is motivating, competitive, and flat-out enjoyable. There was another part that was just as inspiring.
Within our mini run club, four were first-time runners who ran the half marathon. Lauren, my girlfriend, “hated running” and started out with one mile walk/runs. Riya would gasp for air minutes into a jog. Allison, actually, was pretty easy to convince and began training right away. Ryan always dismissed running, constantly using “asthma” as an excuse - whatever that is.
Just several weeks into training, those four crowded my Strava feed with posts. The juxtaposition from their first runs to casually attacking a 10 mile long run was beautiful to witness. It was a matter of confidence building as well. I watched as they proved their initial doubts wrong, accomplishing things they never expected.
With my own training, I was having a blast. Coming off the half ironman training block, my fitness had improved greatly, the weather was cooling down by the week, and I got to run with my best friends. About a month out, on a weekend exemplifying the community we’ve built, my friends and I surprised Nathan to support him as he ran the Houston marathon. Watching him race was the hit of adrenaline and motivation we all needed to finish out our training.
Similar to the Ironman, the days leading up to the race were the most memorable. We drove around buying race day outfits and nutrition, checked out the expo where we got our bibs, and picked our friends up from the airport who were flying in. As with any important race, we loaded up on carbohydrates the night before. Crowded around a large picnic table, we wolfed down plates of pasta and garlic bread. We were joined by Nathan and Will who drove to Austin to cheer us on, as well as Riya’s dad who flew in from Maryland. While we engrossed ourselves in conversation, enjoying each other’s presence, an atmosphere of nervous energy and excitement loomed over us.
Race mornings are always special. This one was no different. Around the apartment, 4 am alarms went off. There were nine of us crammed into our small four-bedroom. With ACDC’s Hells Bells playing on the TV, we scrambled to brew coffee and toast bread. Lines formed for the bathrooms as anxiousness continued building. It was hard to tell whether the bowel movements were caffeine or nerve induced. The hours leading up to the start were in some ways euphoric, a theatric count down until the culmination of all our effort.
I don’t want to bore with you all the details of the race – just know it was hard. I think that’s part of the beauty when it comes to endurance events. The distance doesn’t get shorter. The effort doesn’t feel easier. You just get faster.
On that brisk Sunday morning, we all finished. The community at the end looked a little different this time around. With signs turning into medals and jackets turning into foil, past spectators became today’s finishers. The smiles on our faces told the whole story: individual triumph with collective pride.
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Beautifully wrote + great story
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