I Hit the Wall! My Resilience Journey in the Eugene Marathon

Greetings from Eugene, Oregon.

We’re wrapping up an action-packed week organized around the Eugene Marathon. The race was this Sunday; it was my 46th full marathon.

I’ve always been fascinated by the famous runner Steve Prefontaine. He began his career there as an athlete for the University of Oregon Track & Field team and eventually competed in the 1972 Olympics before dying way too young in a car crash.

So, I was excited about following the footsteps of legends like “Pre” in that Eugene Marathon.

I had planned to run in 3 hours and 30 minutes. Given my recent performances this past year, including a 3:33 in Boston and a 3:34 in San Francisco, that was an aggressive but doable goal. The training miles were in the bank, I was in decent shape, rested and carb-loaded, and the weather was optimal—i.e., light rain and temperatures in the fifties Fahrenheit.

The first half was a breeze. I did my best to contain my energy and not run too fast, keeping my time slightly below eight minutes a mile. I could hear the steps of the 3:30 pacers right behind me as we passed the Simpsons murals in Springfield. There was no margin for error, but I felt good.

At mile 16, it became clear that I would have difficulty keeping my pace for the rest of the race. The 3:30 pacers were now ahead of me, and I was losing ground.

I knew all too well what would happen next: I was about to hit the wall. I just didn’t know when!

If you’re unfamiliar with it, know that about 20% of marathoners, especially those running the distance between 3 and 5 hours, will experience hitting the wall at some point. This can have many causes, from lack of preparation and wrong pace to nutrition or hydration issues.

When you have depleted your muscle glycogen stores, you hit the wall. The effect is a sudden and dramatic decrease in energy and performance. This doesn’t really happen in shorter races like half-marathons, but that’s what makes longer-distance running so interesting!

At mile 18, my legs started to experience sporadic cramps. It became increasingly hard to keep my stride amplitude and frequency.

I’ve been there several times, so I knew it would likely worsen. I also knew that pain was temporary and that after a few miles, I would handle it one way or another.

My brain went into overdrive as I calculated my updated finish times. I had a few options in mind around the 3:40 – 3:50 mark but decided that my performance in mile 20 would be the best indicator of my finish time.

Mile 20 came, and I recovered some ground with a sub-9-minute-mile pace. I was hoping to contain the 3:40 pacers breathing at my neck!

Little did I know about what would come next. 

At mile 22, it felt like I had suddenly gained 200 pounds. My stride plummeted. I was hitting the wall! My pace was now in the 10-minute-mile zone.

I knew now that the last three miles would be miserable, so I activated my superpower during the most challenging times while running: #irunforvalentine.

I use that mental model whenever I face adversity or need to rebound. My daughter Valentine, an avid runner, left this world ten years ago. No matter how much pain or difficulty I have, I give it all to Valentine. I do it for her, to honor her memory and keep her alive inside me.

Valentine kept me going. The happy memories diluted the pain of the moment. My stride stabilized, and I felt a sense of renewed energy as I got closer to the finish at Hayward Field.

Wouldn’t finishing in 3:46 for my 46th marathon be nice at that stage?

I saw the finish clock ticking dangerously fast as I entered the stadium.

One last push, and here I was. Done in 3 hours, 47 minutes, 4 seconds, so close!

I was tired and sore, but it didn’t matter. Once again, I had beaten the beast and finished with determination and focus despite uncertainty and unforeseen obstacles.