I’m a Trail Runner, but I Absolutely Love Road Marathons
Katelyn Kommer
I’m slightly embarrassed to say that two years ago, I would’ve chosen a road run over trails any day. I had yet to be introduced to the wonderful world of 20 degree mornings, powder everywhere, and fast downhills that make the miles fly by. For the past year I’ve lived in Salt Lake City and fallen in love with trail running. Roughly five days a week I carve out the time to drive over to one of our many scenic trailheads, turn my phone on airplane mode, and engage in my favorite form of moving meditation.
So far, this post has been a love letter to trail running. However, there is one kind of road running that still has a grip on my heart. Large road marathons in major cities are one of the most special events there is. A couple of weeks ago I ran the San Francisco Marathon with my dad after months of primarily training on trails. Though my legs felt like they weighed about 30 pounds each by the end, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. My dad and I are already scheming a new annual tradition to run a road marathon in a new major city each fall. Why are marathons the exception to my disdain for pavement pounding? Well, running 26.2 miles amongst a crowd, through a city, and with support along the race course is the pinnacle of what many people consider it to mean to be a runner.
I ran my first marathon through Los Angeles at the age of 19. I had completed three half marathons, and finally felt ready to tackle the entire distance. I trained my ass off, and consistently said no to plans while in college in order to rest for my workouts. My goal was to break four hours, which is roughly a 9 min/mile pace. In pursuit of my goal, I overtrained and developed an overuse injury in my knee two weeks before the race. I decided to run it anyway, and just focus on finishing. Though my knee shot stabbing pains down my calf for the last 10 miles, I finished and still consider it one of the highlights of my life. I broke down in tears at the finish line, and attributed much of my emotion to the energy along the course. The streets of Los Angeles were lined with supporters and spectators. I met fellow runners who were also running their first marathon, and considered this the pinnacle of their running career.
Fast forward to the San Francisco marathon more than four years later, and I still felt the same energy. So many people are attempting something they may have thought previously impossible, and they’re all doing it at once. Once you cross mile 26 and see the finish line, it’s absolutely impossible to not smile. Yourself and the people around you are all completing an amazing feat, together. Running 26.2 miles at the age of 19 was the hardest thing I had done up to that point. For this race, though I was severely undertrained, I was able to interact with the pain I felt in a totally different way. My legs were still screaming and begging to stop, but I smiled at every spectator and took many photos along the way to commemorate what was overall an enjoyable experience during the race.
Between the ages of 19 and 24, I’ve learned a lot about pain. I pushed my limits on mountaineering trips, thru-hikes, high alpine climbing, countless ski days, and snowy trail runs. Over the past four years I’ve watched my body continue when I thought I was absolutely out of gas. I’ve seen that we always have more to give, and that our legs will continue much longer than our mind thinks they can. Because I now know this, I knew that my legs could finish the San Francisco Marathon, even with minimal road training. When the pain started to set in around mile 8, I greeted it as an expected friend. I ran with the pain, but didn’t let any sensations in my mind take over my strong mental state. I recently read “Eat and Run” by Scott Jurek, where he repeatedly notes that “not all pain is significant.” This mantra played through my head for hours as I wound through the streets of San Francisco.
Though I can still vividly feel how badly my muscles hurt, I’m already looking forward to my next road marathon. The thought of running amongst thousands of other athletes as we all grit through varying degrees of pain inspires me to stay in good enough shape to make it happen. What was once a feat I thought only the best runners could accomplish is now an annual tradition between my dad and I. My experiences in the outdoors have taught me how to interact with pain as an expected companion on my journey. With this approach, my body is able to handle tough physical challenges while my mind stays positive.
