What I learned watching the Boston Marathon

The way Eliud Kipchoge and Emma Bates reach, strive, and come up short — and find encouragement in disappointment

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A post shared by Eliud Kipchoge - EGH🇰🇪 (@kipchogeeliud)

Did you watch the Boston Marathon on Monday?

If you did, you no doubt saw the lead runners clustered closely together on the Boston streets, moving as one as the rain slowly fell, trudging through puddles, up and down hills.

For a long time, the ESPN feed of the leaders didn’t change much, as the legendary Kenyan marathoner Eliud Kipchoge took the lead early and held it for most of the race, all the way into the final few miles.

He looked so good out there, almost effortless in a way. Which was a revelation to me as I watched his bouncy, springy stride – I was like, “ahhhh, I get it now, that’s how it looks when you’re a really, really good runner.” I’ve run 26.2 miles a few times in my life and I’m sure I looked much more effortful doing it.

But by the time he reached the 19^th mile, Kipchoge started faltering. He missed a water bottle that an attendant on the sidelines tried to pass to him, and later told reporters he felt a problem occurring with his left leg. (The cold, damp weather didn’t help either.)

Whatever the reason, the lead he’d sprinted to for all those miles evaporated, and he began drifting to the back of the pack. Within a mile or two, the gap had widened even further, to the point the television cameras had a hard time keeping Kipchoge in the same frame as the leaders.

As the leaders made their way over Boston’s famed Heartbreak Hill and later along the finishing stretch on Boylston Street, Kipchoge didn’t make a late surge to try to catch them. He seemed to know the race was lost, and focused instead on finishing as strong and smooth as possible. Even though coming in sixth must have been a huge disappointment, his face was just as serene and calm as it had been all day.

At this point, you might say, “So what? This happens all the time in races like this, right?” And that’s true.

But Kipchoge came into Monday the winner of multiple Olympic gold medals and several of the world marathon majors, including a string of ten straight marathon wins. That’s what led news outlets to run headlines like this the next day:

I watched with the same expectation, thinking the outcome of the race was a forgone conclusion. That Kipchoge would climb this mountain like all the others he’s climbed before, plant his flag on the peak and enjoy the view, like he (almost) always has.

I realize how ridiculous this may seem, but when I watch athletes like this — especially athletes in individual sports like running, golf or tennis, for example — I find it easy to identify with them, to imagine myself in their shoes as they’re competing.

I feel what I imagine they’re feeling; their struggles and heartbreak I sometimes find overwhelming, but also the joy when they overcome the odds and do something amazing to put themselves over the top.

That Kipchoge got as close as he did, that victory seemed so attainable before slipping away in the last few miles, in a way makes it easier to relate to him. He’s human after all, just like I am. He has dreams and aspirations that still elude him, and when he falls short of his goal, he has to start over too, just like I would.

He’s obviously achieved so much. But still he’s not quite where he wants to be, there are still goals he has out there — he still has something to look forward to, in other words, to propel him forward and push him to improve.

My goals are a lot humbler than Eliud Kipchoge’s — or Emma Bates’, the American woman who finished fifth on Monday. Do I want to run faster, and longer mileages? Yes, of course. Would I like for this newsletter to be more successful? Definitely!

There’s a part of me, though, that doesn’t really want to get “there,” wherever there is. I think I understand that it’s better, ultimately, to be in pursuit, to have something to dream about and plan for, and organize my energies around.

We all have aspirations, things we’ve dreamed about since we were children, a place we’d like to get to in our lives. But is what we want actually to achieve our aspiration, or to be striving for it? Would we really prefer that it remain beyond our reach, so that we can always be aiming toward something higher?

I’m not sure I want to complete the journey I’m on; not just yet, anyway. So I keep on running — and writing — and (hopefully!) moving forward.

What about you? Do you have something you’ve been striving for, that you’ve always wanted to achieve, that still just beyond your grasp? Where are you on that journey?

I’d love to hear — as always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going.

Your friend,

— Terrell