What my first marathon taught me

Last winter, after two intense seasons in my local tennis league, I wanted to try something different. I had been working with STRIV, a start-up that makes sensor-based insoles, so I was already using them on my occasional long runs, and the AI coach made me feel less lonely out there.

Over the years, I've learned not to do too much, and instead to lean into three goals that are important to me. One of them is staying healthy and active, so I can feel like myself, feel a sense of achievement, and get the health benefits. So I signed up for the 2026 Marine Corps Marathon.

I told myself I wouldn't push too hard, but I would train. Time went by, and by September I was still a bit undertrained. But with weight training, quite frequent short runs and a few long runs, I felt confident about finishing.

I went in with no expectations except to finish. I also wanted to avoid the kind of pain I had after the half.

The atmosphere on the course was amazing. Every stretch of the route was different, all through DC, a city I've lived in for 14 years. I remember thinking, wow, it's already mile 10. And then, wow, I'm still feeling OK at mile 17, which was already the longest I'd ever run.

The course climbs right from the start. From my earlier runs with STRIV, I knew my right foot tends to get midfoot pain partway through a run, so I was half expecting it. I did start to feel my right arch early, around miles 7 to 8. Around mile 10, both arches had minor pain, but not enough to stop me. I was still feeling good.

On my second-to-last long run before the race, 16 miles on the W&OD Trail in Virginia, I noticed that my left arch tends to hurt on uphills. So the pain in both arches might have come from my usual pattern plus the climb in the early miles.

Around mile 17, near the Mall, the crowd was so amazing that I magically felt better, and the arch pain faded. I found a pace group and followed it for about 2 miles. I knew I was pushing a little, but I picked up the pace.

Crossing from DC into Virginia on Highway 1, the stretch to mile 20 was the hardest. The sun was out, my feet hurt, and it was quiet. After mile 21, I started run-walking and stopping to stretch so my left arch wouldn't hurt as much.

After the race, I saw that at mile 17 I really had picked up, with a faster pace and a longer stride. But my left and right were drifting apart. My left foot was landing harder, and it broke down later, at mile 21 and again at mile 23.

Learning from the data, and piecing together how I felt with what my feet were doing, has been fascinating. In the early miles, when I felt good, my form was measurably better. When I felt pain, I tended to shorten my stride. That might have been me starting to protect my feet, so the landings could be softer.

At mile 17, when I felt better and picked up the pace, that push might have driven my left foot, the one doing more of the work for most of the race, into trouble. The signs were there. I was running faster, but my two feet were landing quite differently. I was simply pushing myself to chase something, and I'm not sure what.

Someone who is a very experienced, elite-level marathon runner said he coaches people to be smart from mile 0 to 14, and patient from mile 14 to 26.2. What wise advice.

As a first-timer, my goal was simple: finish, and don't hurt my knees like I did after the half. I hurt my feet this time. But I learned so much. Right after the race, I remember thinking I would never run a marathon again.

Now I think it's a maybe. I know what I'd work on next time. Maybe I'm a runner after all.