The Death of a Marathon
Toni Reavis, perhaps it’s better that you not read any further.
Those of you who have read my embarrassment of a bio know that I am a native of the great state of Cincinnati. As such, it was with a keen ear that I followed the recent coverage of Cincinnati’s Flying Pig Marathon, called one of America’s “10 Most Enjoyable Marathons” by Runner’s World back in 2005.
You should know we’re in trouble right there.
Pardon my ignorance, but when did the marathon become “enjoyable”? I am among the uninitiated, so maybe when I finally get out there, I will discover the marathon is like a three hour episode of How I Met Your Mother: soft edges, plenty of chuckles and warm feelings all around. Such is the tack taken with Cincinnati’s marathon, and, I suppose, at least they are up front about it. The name says it all: novelty marathon.
A Point, Not a Line
What bothered me last week was the prevailing attitude surrounding the race, evident in comments made by the race founder, and in the coverage provided by the local daily, the Cincinnati Enquirer. I submitted the following Letter to the Editor:
By definition, a marathon is a race. By definition, in a race, speed matters.
The attitude reflected throughout the Enquirer’s pre-race coverage - that marathons are primarily about participation - disservices the sport on which so much worthy fund-raising piggy-backs. In one of America’s top high school running towns, with a history of national-caliber runners, that attitude is especially disappointing. Running fast is part of the fabric of Cincinnati sports.
Celebrating mere completion - in the coverage and race-planning - threatens to turn the Pig into little more than a parade, a giant civic run-a-thon, limited in scope and selling our great city short.
I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me that it went unpublished. The editorial staff opted, instead, to run a milquetoast letter bemoaning the lack of coverage of a related event held marathon weekend for “athletically-challenged” persons — for which the author’s best argument was “I believe it was a very newsworthy event.”
Frankly, I don’t which part of that sentiment is more laughable: that this person would think his personal opinions are a suitable arbiter of newsworthiness, or the attempt to attach a “newsworthy” tag to the fact that the Hope and Possibility 5k was held. After all, based on the writer’s description of that 5k — that it was held and its basic premise — “fact” is the most credit you can afford: the staging of an event is not “news.” There’s no story. It’s a point on a graph. Not a line.
Sadly, the Enquirer seems to agree with the writer, Frank Carr. Is his opinion newsworthy? Or, is this the paper reflecting an opinion it feels might be demonstrative, or at least interesting? By giving Mr. Carr a voice, doesn’t the Enquirer issue an implicit mini-mea-culpa for not covering the Hope and Possibility 5k? Implicitly, isn’t the paper allowing that the Hope and Possibility 5k might deserve ink simply for existing?
Speed: Part of the Fabric of Cincinnati Sports History
Allowed to stand beside its coverage of The Flying Pig, existence does, in fact, appear — implicitly — to be the standard for newsworthiness in the Enquirer, when it comes to road races. You see, what’s explicit were the recent headlines: “Average Wins in This Race” and “Forget Speed - Be a Penguin.” This is the point at which I threw up in my mouth.
To me, this attitude is deeply troubling when you consider that Cincinnati has been home to numerous state cross country champions, individual and team; to pioneer Ted Corbitt; to World Championship medalist David Payne; and to top-class marathoners such as John Sence, and Olympian Julie Isphording. I wonder how many high school cross country coaches in the Cincinnati-area opened the paper that day, and began praying that their more impressionable and less motivated athletes wouldn’t see those headlines. Paul Daugherty, the columnist who penned “Average Wins…” may not know the first thing about Ryan Hall, Robert Cheruiyot, or Haile Gebrselassie, but in Cincinnati, it takes so little effort to understand and embrace what it means to run fast - the beauty of the pain, and the sacrifice.
But, no: the on-line edition of the paper did not contain a single run-down of course records or previous winners. There was no preview of notable area runners who had a shot to win, despite the fact that two regionally-competitive running clubs make their homes in the Greater Cincinnati area. Nope: just a look at the marathon’s mascot, two looks at the recent earphone ban, that look at the would-be Penguins, and so forth.
Now, as noble as it is for the couch-potato-cum-marathoner to toe the line at “The Pig,” doesn’t it seem a little perverse to openly ignore — even (implicitly) denigrate — those who excel at this activity? To openly ignore what is essentially the whole purpose of running — speed? Running was invented, after all, because it’s faster than walking. Put another way, if a car can reach 5th gear, why would you keep it in 3rd on an open highway? But what’s even sillier is someone stepping up to say, Well, hey, 3rd gear’s pretty good - you could be back in 1st! Or Park! He-he-he. It’s is a case of the fool following the fool. I’m certainly more OK with slow marathoners, than I am with the people who come within a hair’s breadth of telling them to stay slow, because, Hey, that’s alright! At least you’re out there! Frankly, it seems almost un-American to so brazenly celebrate what is, essentially, mediocrity.
The Bottom Line
Now, I recognize that the car-on-the-highway metaphor is not entirely apt because the average marathoner doesn’t have a 5th gear yet. Or at least, they don’t yet know that they have it. So, to move forward, let’s try this: if you were dating a “4″ but could be pulling an “8″ or a “9″ would your friends praise you for dating a “4″? Heck, you’re getting out there after all! Isn’t dating a “4″ better than not dating at all?
No, it’s not. Do not date a “4″ unless you absolutely have to. Your friends would never accept you dating a “4″ even if he or she was as nice as Mother Teresa (who was, incidentally, a “3″) . Your friends would accept a “6″ only as a means to an end. A “7″ might slide for a little while because, hey, weather can be finnicky on race day, right? And you missed that one water station, remember? (I think you know what I mean by that.) But ultimately, friends would continually try to put you in position to date that “8″ or that “9.” By subtly talking you out of that ill-advised facial hair. By lending you that great blazer they just bought. By making jokes about your “4’s” lazy eye. By introducing you to every single “8″ and “9″ that they know. This is where the metaphor kind of starts to break down.
But, sift through all that and here’s the truth one can pretty easily arrive at: that marathon you’re training for? Unless it’s Chicago, New York, Boston, Grandma’s, LA, Rock ‘N Roll, or maybe Austin… it’s not your friend.
In short, that marathon doesn’t care about you.
No really, it doesn’t. Most marathons don’t give a shit what kind of shape you’re in, as long as you are healthy enough to survive. Your local marathon is thinking You PR’d? Great! Means you’ll come out again next year, right? What’s that you say? PR’d how much? Don’t care! Sign up here! By celebrating participation, it’s clear that what matters most to them is the bottom line: how many finishers can we trumpet in the press releases? How much money can we boast that we raised?
Now, the fund-raising performed by “participation” marathons is invaluable, and I hardly want to do away with it. But when did striving for personal achievement, for personal betterment, become little more than a line marathons used to reel in entrants? When did so many people begin to value completion and competence over excellence? When did it become socially acceptable to date a “3″ just for the sake of dating?
The Death Knell
In all of the Enquirer’s coverage, though, one sentence hit me like a slap in the face. Amid all the back-patting, all the celebrating of the 7-hour “marathoners” who just keep on grinding — and no, I’m not exaggerating, 7-hours… in all of that, most galling was the quote from the race founder, Bob Coughlin, as found in Daugherty’s column:
If I had an extra $50,000, I’d put it into John Mellencamp singing the national anthem or something before I’d put it into prize money.
And with that, just as I had cleansed my mouth of the taste of vomit and bile… the death knell.
At this point, with that attitude, The Flying Pig should cease to call itself a marathon.
I had always planned to run my first marathon in Cincinnati at the Flying Pig, where my family could come see me, where I could maybe get my high school coach to come out and give me a verbal ass-kicking down memory lane around 22. But now I think I’ll be debuting in New York, my second home, and in a race hosted by an organization that has shown repeatedly — and very, very clearly — that it wants me, and others like me across the country, to run as fast as possible. I’ll be running my first marathon, and hopefully many subsequent marathons, in New York, because apparently, Cincinnati no longer has a marathon. If you ask me, Flying Pig Run-a-Thon is just a bit more fitting.
Because when it’s all about fund-raising and John Mellencamp, it’s no longer a marathon. Because it’s no longer a race.
Because, clearly, at the Cincinnati Flying Pig — and, no doubt, at marathons nation-wide — speed no longer matters.
Relevant e-mails, for those wishing to communicate opinions re: the linked above:
letters@enquirer.com / info@flyingpigmarathon.com / pdaugherty@enquirer.com
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May 7th, 2008 at 7:09 pm |
Jeremy:
Many posts that start off like this end up spiraling into, “If you can’t break four hours, you’re just not trying.” Thank you for segregating the “slow people who try to get faster” from the “people who take pride in not trying”.
If enter a race, my goal is to see how fast I can cover the distance. I train to improve, and I race to gauge that improvement. I work hard, and I race hard.
That said, prize money has no impact on my decision to run a race. While I definitely wouldn’t want a RD to plow money into an “Our Country” national anthem, I also would prefer things that would make my race better. A couple examples could be: more port-a-johns at the start or better corral systems so I can have a smooth start. I’m not going to gain anything from paying some random Kenyan more cash for beating another random Kenyan.
I enjoy watching the major marathons (and other races) for the competition, but it’s ridiculous to think that every race has to cater to the elites (err, professionals). I feel that Toni always portrays this false dilemma.
That said, I agree with 80% of what you said. It’s a race, after all. Let’s cover the competition at least as much as everything else.
May 7th, 2008 at 10:23 pm |
For me, it’s less a matter of the prize money, as it is the attitude demonstrated therein. Why get John Mellencamp? Oh, to enhance the “experience.” (Could you all hear my sneer?) It’s my supposition that the Flying Pig (and marathons like it) would get John Mellencamp simply because he’ll enhance their ability get people entered… to be part of the “experience.”
But isn’t the whole experience of the marathon supposed to be testing your limits? In one or both of the Enquirer’s iPod articles, people were saying “I don’t know what I’d do without my iPod… I find running so boring, otherwise…” If that’s the case, thanks but no thanks - people who don’t like running aren’t making our sport better anyway. Just donate whatever money you would have raised and save yourself 4 hours of boredom.
That said, I think there are ways that prize money CAN enhance an event for people beyond the random Kenyan who’s winning it… but I don’t want to side-track this conversation. At least not quite yet.
Incidentally - nice “Our Country” reference. If we’re not careful, Chevy is going to lobby hard enough for that atrocity to actually become our national anthem.
May 7th, 2008 at 10:24 pm |
Oh, and finally: Patrick, congratulations on actually finishing that piece. I just wrote it as a test to see how loyal & dedicated our readers are.
May 10th, 2008 at 4:28 pm |
Unless you have connections, you have to enter the lottery to get into New York. They keep a “processing fee” (now $11) even if they deny you entry. I think the odds of getting in are about 50%.
Stats from Marathonguide.com
Average Finishing Time:
New York (2007) 4:29:03
Cincinnati Flying Pig (2007) 4:28:51 (4:34 in ‘08 on 26.47 mile course)
May 11th, 2008 at 8:16 am |
Thank you for this article! I’ve been lamenting the same situation with respect to my local marathon, which is very near where I live, allowing my family to watch, etc. In the last few years, the only news items coming out have been 1)stories about charity runners, 2)stories about Kenyans, and 3)stories about exceeding last year’s registrations. This year, I asked a writer from the local paper to consider writing an article about some of the ‘competitive’ runners from around the area, and so far, none of us have been contacted.
I, like you, think I will begin to gravitate toward marathons that demonstrate consideration for those of us who give 100% to both preparation and racing, and are working toward finding our limits.
May 11th, 2008 at 8:22 pm |
You can get into New York with a 1:22 half or faster as an open runner.
May 12th, 2008 at 12:00 pm |
Mark, another option to get into NYC? Huge charity donation. Except that “charity” (last I checked) was the USA Distance Project, which develops some of our best talents through Team USA (Mammoth Lakes & Minnesota) and ZAP Fitness… Instead of charity runners “hijacking” our sport, the NYRR does a great job of hijacking the charity runners to better our sport.
Also, I appreciate the statistic re: average finish time, because if anything, I think it demonstrates that you don’t have to turn your back on the “average” runner in order to put on a world-class race. NYC has clearly managed to spend top dollar on appearance fees and prize money, without diminishing the “experience” for the 4:30 marathoner.
“Oh, but it’s NYC, the experience is built in…” right? “Their pockets are so deep…” right? Well, Cincinnati also is host to a 4-mile race (The Hyde Park Blast), which offers terrific prize money for a regional-level race, and continues to grow into one of the biggest — and probably best — area races. Top local high school runners routinely finish in the Top 30, but rarely in the Top 10, meaning that the professional-aspect of the race can directly affect the community in a unique way — such young runners have their talent affirmed and encouraged, while giving them something to shoot for, and showing that there can be (running) life after college.
To that point: one of the complaints voiced in the Enquirer’s coverage of the “marathon” was that past Pig winners have pocketed the prize money and immediately hit the road. Well, whose fault is that? Build a stipulation into the prize structure that states the overall race winner has to high-five all the finishers in the 1-Mile Kids’ Fun Run as they cross the line, if he wants to collect the prize money. What an experience for those kids. What a photo-op for the event. What a tool for the sport.
May 15th, 2008 at 6:13 pm |
No offense, but what this is really about is your own insecurities about your own abilities.
I don’t disagree with much of what you wrote - but that you care what these people do, people who should be far behind you, is not about them. It’s about you and your own inadequacy. You feel that your accomplishments are denigrated by other people completing the distance.
To be fair, we all feel that way to some degree. But not all of us get so excited about we rant at length and come up with nonsensical analogies and write letters to the editor.
The simple reality is that Bingham and Galloway and the other Penguin Enablers out there have created an environment in which people feel comfortable participating in marathons.
If everyone had your attitude - marathons would not be what they are today. Which could, arguably, be a good thing.
Except it wouldn’t be good for the tens of thousands who would never get off the couch because of it.
The race is still there. If you want to compete, compete. Quit worrying about everyone else.
Ask your shrink why exactly this gets your panties in a bunch. For most of us, when we want to get away from the Penguins and the iPlodders, we just train harder and race faster.
It works just fine.
May 15th, 2008 at 10:57 pm |
Win-Win is always the goal. Slow, like fast, requires its own dedication and deserves its appropriate rewards. It is the zero-sum quality of the fast v. slow argument, where the fast has suffered as the slow has risen, which many bemoan. But that is the fault of those who have allowed the sport to be presented in a fashion that no longer compels attention. After a long enough period atrophy set in, and the market has spoken. Listen and adjust. As we here well know, to merely cry out in anger and dismay solves nothing except in the gut. We shall overcome, if that be history’s demand.
May 16th, 2008 at 9:26 am |
JK,I don’t have a shrink yet, so can you recommend a good one? JK!
I’d just like to take a moment to reiterate that my beef isn’t necessarily with the 6-hour marathoner. Slow runners don’t automatically hurt the sport, and in fact, can do serious good for it: how many competitive runners began to appreciate the sport because their parents dragged them out to cheer for Mom/Dad at the local 5k or marathon when they were small? Attending our annual family 5k from the age of 2- or 3-yrs-old was certainly a formative experience for me and my brother, and my parents didn’t even run the 5k!
Now, I’ve run Cincinnati’s ultimate participation race — the 90-something-year old Thanksgiving Day Race, which is a 10k, which means it doesn’t even necessitate the change in lifestyle that the Pig does. Plenty of participants don’t run a step the other 364 days of the year, but show up on Turkey Day in the thousands. I’ve entered numerous times, sometimes “competing” (I use that terms loosely given my performance in those years), and a couple times, using the event as an excuse to get in my jog and catch up for 40 minutes with former high school friends and teammates. So I’ve seen both sides. Let me ease your fears: never once did I give a thought to the thousands behind me, only those ahead of me, or the person I was chatting with, beside me.
What I HAVE given thought to — MUCH thought — is the fact that this race refuses to offer a meaningful prize or even comped entries for the top runners, despite the fact that those are the people who end up being the crux of the news coverage the following morning. (For this race, the Enquirer actually gets it right, mentioning the record participation numbers, but primarily featuring the fast folks — recently, their coverage even gave voice to the winner’s post-race complaint: that he spent hundreds of dollars to fly home from his training grounds in Colorado to run — and win — his hometown race… which, in turn, “welcomed” him home by forcing him to still pay the $25 entry fee.)
The case of this race REALLY bothers me, given that the race director is a former Olympian who should understand the sacrifices being made by the couple-dozen local runners who scrape by, working on a wage in the area’s running specialty stores, or rising pre-dawn before a 9-6 job, all in the hopes of getting closer to the dream that the RD once achieved. How hard would it be to comp 5 entries each on the men’s and womens’ side? Are there really no car dealerships in the city willing to put up a 6-month lease for the winners?
Ultimately, by ignoring the fast runners, races like this suggest that success = just showing up. And whether we’re talking sport or just plain ol’ health/fitness, that is an uber-important Step 1, but an abysmal end goal. That is where this piece seeks to place “blame”: on the races who propagate that attitude. Not the slow runners.
Now: if you’ll excuse me, I need to go trawl the Internet to see where I can purchase some non-bunching man-panties. Or, “manties.”