24 years after my first one, I try again — and discover that running a marathon can be a team sport, even when you think you’re running alone.
I ran my first marathon in 1995, at age 34.
The goal was to earn a qualifying time for the 1996 Boston Marathon (a “BQ” in runner parlance). Beyond the challenge itself, that year’s race was extra special — it was the 100th running of Boston. A really big deal.
https://www.baa.org/races/boston-marathon/history/
I trained hard, dealt with a few injury time-outs, got through my plan, and made it to the start line healthy and hopeful.
There was, however, a quirk in the timing: my wife, Georgia, and I had a two-year-old child — and she was eight months pregnant on race day. I had picked a late-season marathon to maximize training time but still stay ahead of the due date. That’s how I found myself on September 20, 1995, in Bristol, New Hampshire, about to start the New Hampshire Marathon — a lovely but punishingly hilly course.
Reality Steps In
Long story short, I managed to earn that BQ — but got injured during the race. With a newborn on the way and a Massachusetts winter to train through, I decided not to run Boston after all. Instead of racing from Hopkinton to Boston on April 15, 1996, we watched Uta Pippig’s triumphant win (and incredible grit) on TV.
Giving It Another Try
Fast forward to 2017: we’d moved to Florida, and I started entering a few local races again — 5Ks, a 10K, then my first half marathon in more than 20 years, and then another. Some went well, some didn’t, but the racing bug had bitten again.
So I thought, Why not give the marathon another shot? I chose the 2021 Publix Florida Marathon on February 7, 2021. I had about four months to build mileage, add some tempo runs, and tackle a few bridges for “hill” training.
Race Day
Race morning arrived with a bang — literally. At our house, about 45 miles north of the course, lightning, thunder, and torrential rain woke us up. I was sure the race would be canceled. I texted our friend Paula, who replied, “Of course it’s on — it’s not raining in Melbourne.”
Sure enough, by the time we got there, it was just cloudy with a few sprinkles. Typical Florida weather.
But once the race started, the storm system moved steadily south. High winds, heavy rain, and severe thunderstorm warnings forced the Race Director to close the double-loop course after a small group of runners — myself included — had already started the second loop.
The Wheels Start to Fall Off
At first it wasn’t too bad, until mile 19, when I could see dark, lightning-streaked clouds rolling in from the top of one of the bridge crossings. Uh-oh. The rain returned, then strengthened, and the wind picked up.
Of course, I made all the rookie mistakes: went out too fast, didn’t drink enough, carried too few calories (three gels is not enough). I had hoped to average just under eight minutes per mile — enough to qualify for Boston in the 55–59 age group — but by mile 19, I was fading fast.
The Turnaround
By mile 21, the “I can’t keep going” voices had arrived. I was trying to accept that the BQ might be gone and just focus on finishing.
Then two women — experienced marathoners, Angela Treleven Persich and another runner she’d met that day — cruised up beside me, running smooth and steady. They were right on the pace I needed, so I asked if I could hang with them.
They chatted, encouraged me, and kept their rhythm even as rain pelted us and the course flooded in ankle-deep water. I hung on all the way to the final mile and the last bridge climb — into the wind, through driving rain — and down to the finish line. For real, I left it all on the course.
At the end, it was pouring, the wind howling. Georgia was there at the final stretch, cheering (after running her own 5K earlier). I crossed the line in 3:27:23 about seven minutes under the qualifying mark of 3:35:00. Woot!
It was an unforgettable day — and a reminder that even solo sports aren’t always solo.
The Takeaway
A few days later, Angela messaged me:
“Running is a team sport, not individual! My life has been so enriched running races and meeting people along the journey.”
She was right. This race wasn’t just about time, or even finishing — it was about rediscovering the power of community, endurance, and shared effort.
Originally published on Medium
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