Why 26.2 Miles is a mistake
In 490 BC, Greek messenger Pheidippides ran from the battlefield of Marathon to Athens, gasped “We have won!” (Νενικήκαμεν!) — and promptly died.
Runners looked at that and thought, “Let’s do it.”
If that’s not a bad omen for an event, I’m not sure what is.
Fast forward to 2025, and here we go again:
“A bad day at the office.”
“The wheels came off.”
“The plan went out the window.”
Listen. It’s not a bad day. It’s a bad idea.
The Marathon Is Too Far
Target times dissolve. You’re lucky if you finish upright.
Unless you’ve got monk-like discipline and a training plan from the Kenyan Highlands, the marathon is a challenge that breaks you.
Even some of our best athletes struggle to keep pace.
Take the 2025 London Marathon:
– Alex Yee, Olympic triathlete? 8 minutes and 41 seconds behind the winner.
– Eilish McColgan, Scotland’s distance star? 8 minutes and 35 seconds behind.
So what hope is there for Keith from Aldershot — running his first marathon, with his JustGiving page having seen a lot more action than his running shoes?
And even your local running legend — whose final 10K always seems to unfold like a slow-motion car crash — still racks up Strava kudos like they’ve uploaded a moon landing.
As for me? I ran 3:20:56 in Edinburgh. Take an hour off, and I’m still an also-ran.
The winners? The high-altitude endurance specialists.
The rest of us? Mostly trying — and failing.
Ultras Make Sense. Marathons Don’t.
Ultras make sense. Run. Walk. Eat pizza. Maybe even take a nap.
It’s about the journey — not just the finish line.
But marathons?
We cling to the idea that it’s a true test of speed, strength, and grit.
That we’ll glide across the finish line, glorious and transformed.
In reality, we get:
– Limping at mile 20
– Vomiting
– Being passed by a giant hot dog
– Plans in tatters
– Existential dread
On TV, it looks like an inspiring migration of human resilience.
At street level, it’s boxed in, jostling for space, often baking in the heat.
It’s not triumph. It’s survival.
Twenty Is Plenty
If we’re serious about meaningful mass-participation distance running — not fantasy, not punishment — let’s stop at 20 miles.
Maybe call it The Athenian 20: a true test of running endurance that most could finish with grace.
Twenty miles. Challenging. Achievable. Honest.
And if he had stopped there, perhaps Pheidippides may have lived.
