the marathon owes you nothing
my journey to 3:20
The marathon owes you nothing.
Months of training, doing everything “right” — and still, there’s no magic guarantee that race day will go to plan. Sometimes, within the first few miles, you realize, it’s not going to be about hitting your goal, it’s going to be a fight just to cross the finish line.
I felt that in October 2024 at the Chicago Marathon. I finished in 3:28 — a 4-minute PR. On paper, it’s a win. But after an 18-week training block, the best workouts I’ve ever strung together, 70+ mile weeks, I felt like I deserved a faster time. Humidity, a lingering cough, travel, poor nutrition, I used every excuse. But the truth? The marathon doesn’t owe you anything. It just wasn’t my day.
It’s tough when people celebrate your finish, excited about your achievement, and all you can think is: I’m capable of more.
With my eyes on the coveted Boston Qualifying time of 3:25 in sight, I decided to sign up for the Los Angeles Marathon. I set out on a shortened, 12-week training plan. Things felt good: peaked at 60 miles, cut the excess miles, hit the hard days hard, and found a new flow in my long runs.
26.2 miles is a long time for everything to go according to plan. The marathon is a rollercoaster of indescribable highs and lows, both physically and mentally, that you can only truly understand once you’ve lived it.
The first 16 miles were a breeze — rolling ups and downs from Dodger Stadium through Downtown, Silverlake, Hollywood, West Hollywood, and Beverly Hills. I kept checking my watch, knowing I should probably slow down and conserve some energy, but also thinking I could bank some time in the front half to help me later. Up until mile 18, I felt on top of the world. Huge shoutout to my friend Carly, who paced me for 23 miles of this race, even rallying the quiet crowds to cheer us on.
As miles 18-20 approached, I knew this was where the race really began. Luckily, the support from run clubs, family, and friends along this tough, rolling stretch carried me through. I was able to maintain my pace. This was one of those moments where you’re riding such a high — you remember exactly why you run marathons.
This feeling doesn't come around often, but when it does, it’s truly indescribable.
After passing my friends at Venice Run Club and turning the corner onto Sepulveda, things took a turn. Mentally, I was in a dark place. That subtle 1–2% incline felt more like 5% over the course of a mile, and with minimal crowd support, it was tough.
I dragged my feet through Brentwood, grateful for the large crowds and friends cheering me on. I had just enough energy to lift my arms for a small wave in their direction. Just a few more miles back the way I came to the finish. I took full advantage of the subtle downhill on Sepulveda before finally turning the corner onto Santa Monica Boulevard.
Final stretch. Less than 2 miles to go. My pacers had done their part, and now it was on me. The finish line was in sight, time to finish strong and take it all in.
The last uphill to the finish is brutal. You’re fighting for your life, just trying to get across. The nausea and adrenaline finally caught up to me right before the line. I gave the crowd a quick show — I had to stop and throw up a few times in the middle of the finisher’s chute (the same thing happened in Chicago??).
A stranger, who I’d later come to know as Caleb, grabbed me as I was hunched over and dragged me to the finish line. The final 200 meters was a full sprint as I watched my goal time tick on the clock as I crossed.
The moment I had spent years dreaming about and training tirelessly for was finally mine. 3:20:49. The marathon owes you nothing. It’s your hard work, energy, and focus that gets you there.
(let’s just hope that’s enough of a buffer to get me to Boston)