It seems every year, there is some article somewhere about whether plodders — really slow runners — ought to be running marathons. Interestingly, this debate, which seems prevalent in endurance running circles, is entirely absent in triathlon circles. If you can finish a half iron distance race in eight and a half hours or a full iron distance race in 17 hours, no one questions whether you ought to be there. In fact, the most raucous and exciting time to be at an IRONMAN finish line is not in mid-afternoon when the pros cross, but rather at midnight when the final 17 hour finishers cross the line. Never will you find more love and support in the athletic community than for the last finishers at a triathlon. Triathletes, no matter what their speed, seem to have respect for the distance and how everyone who finishes, no matter what their time, puts in their own hard effort to just to get through the course and make it to the finish line. It is a pity that so many in the endurance running community do not have that outlook. Recently, however, I have noticed some articles in running publications that seem to recognize the intensity of efforts put in by slow athletes, just to finish the race. This is a welcome change from the complaints that seem to circulate around the Fall marathon season.
Slow Athletes Put In Hard Efforts
All of my races have represented the best effort that I was capable of on that day. At my first two international/Olympic distance triathlons, I finished DFL (“Dead F*#%ing Last“) and they were two of the proudest race moments I have had. Both of those races took place around the one-year mark after I was diagnosed with diabetes and got up off the couch and both were Herculean, four-plus hour efforts for me. While I respect and admire the athletes that can complete that distance in under two and a half hours, I also felt respected by the fast athletes, who seemed to recognize that my 4:15 finish was just as hard for me, as their 2:15 finish was for them — if not harder because I did not have a lifetime of training and racing experience to carry me through when times got tough out there on the second loop of the bike course when the sweeper tailed me for the last eight miles, or on the run course when everything hurt and my only adversary was the voice in my head telling me to stop. My proudest moment as a triathlete was my 8:14:37 finish at IRONMAN 70.3 North Carolina. Rather than being ashamed of being so slow, I felt a special kind of pride that I was able to manage the race and stick it out on the course for so long in challenging conditions without ever considering stopping.
Slow Running Can Be Hard Running
Similarly, some of the races I am most proud of, are running races where I hit personal landmarks that represented huge improvement for me, even if my times were relatively slow. One of my proudest moments of the last two years was a sub-30 minute 5k. Another one of my proudest moments was a 1:05:31 time at a 10k, for a 10:45 min/mile pace. I was registered for the half-marathon that day but I felt running 13.1 miles would take too long to recover from in time to train and race my first international distance tri a few weeks later so at the last minute, I changed my registration to the 10k. It was almost a magical race: I remember feeling great the whole race and holding paces that were far lower than the 12:30 (and slower!) paces at which I had been training. I remember approaching the last water stop and pointing to the volunteer from whom I planned to grab the cup and then talking it from him in full stride like I was in the last few miles at the Olympics! I have no idea what possessed me, but when I finished within shouting distance of the magical one-hour mark for a 10k (one of my secret goals that I have yet to hit), I was thrilled.
The Longer You’re Out There, the Harder Your Race
In some ways, the presumption of effort — that the faster you are, the harder your effort — is just the opposite at the back of the pack. After my half-Ironman finish, my coach Kelly Fillnow put me on the cover of her website. I was a little embarrassed about that. I was quite sure that my time at that race was the slowest half-iron time posted by any of her clients at any half-iron race that year. Not only that, she had clients who had finished 5k races is in under 19 minutes and had run marathons fast enough to qualify for Boston. But my trainer from that first year off the couch, Jim Guimond, explained it to me. He said that landmarks like a 19-minute 5k or a Boston Marathon qualifying time were great achievements that should be celebrated, but they are a progressive milestone in the life of an athlete. He said that those athletes recognize how hard it is for someone to start out and make the changes necessary to be able to finish an endurance event like an IRONMAN 70.3.
The Beauty of DFL
To be sure, there is something about being out there on the course for so long that brings with it its own challenges. It is kind of a lonely experience to know that you are last, when you are biking and running alone, with only the sound of the sweeper behind you to chaperone your last miles of the course. But being able to stick it out to finish last is kind of a beautiful thing. The person out there at the end is someone who has nothing to fight for and nothing to race for except for the glory of finishing and defeating his one true competitor: the voice in our head that tells us to stop. While all athletes have that negative voice in the back of their minds that tells them “you can‘t“, the slow, recently-minted athlete had given that voice power for a really long time. That voice kept me on the couch, slowly developing the train wreck of diabetes for decades before I finally found the right people to help me overcome it. Fighting with that voice on the hills at my early races was a real existential exercise. Six triathlons later, by the time I got to the half Ironman, that voice was silent for that day. There was a lot of pain and difficulty to overcome through the eight and a half hour ordeal of my first 70.3 mile race, but I was proud to realize later that there was no point at which I thought I wasn‘t going to make it in under the course cutoff or that I wasn‘t going to finish. My DFL finishes built that confidence. And the number of people remaining in the stands at the finish line at Pinehust International to cheer me on loudly as I finally got to that finish line, was something I will never forget.
All This Applies Equally to Running
The people who complain about the “plodders“ at marathons could learn a lot from the attitude of triathletes, and my trainer and my coach. Respect for the distance means respect for all of the people that do their best to finish it. While the “best“ for a lifelong runner might be a 3:40 marathon, the “best“ for a new athlete, recently up off the couch, might be a 5:40. Or a 6:30. Or even a seven or more hour finish for 26.2 miles. You gain nothing by judging others. Their slow finish on the same course as your fast finish does nothing to diminish your achievements. Kelly putting me on the cover of her website after my half IRONMAN, does nothing to diminish the amazing achievements of my friends who have finished that same distance fast enough to get into the world championships, or my friends who have finished full distance IRONMANs or the achievements of my coach, Kelly, who can finish a full IRONMAN in just a little bit longer than I can finish a half IRONMAN.
Appreciate the slow runners and the slow athletes. You could never know how hard it is to get up off the couch and finish an endurance race unless you once got up off the couch yourself.
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