My Second Marathon
I recently completed my second marathon and had a lot of reflections coming out of that about me as a dad, husband, and person I want to be. While the race didn’t go exactly the way I wanted, those end up being the most valuable experiences.
At the end of the day, it’s still an achievement I’m proud of and an experience I will never forget. One of my favorite quotes is “there are no losses, only lessons” and I know the lessons from this experience will carry forward into whatever challenge awaits next.
As always, incredibly grateful for Tiffany and the kids for all their support throughout the training and race day. I couldn’t do any of this without you.
Say Yes to Medical Assistance
A runner once told me that a great post-race life hack is to say you need medical assistance as soon as you cross the finish line. They will immediately put you in a wheelchair and send you to the medical tent for a massage and electrolytes.
I remember scoffing when I first heard this. David Goggins would never.
But as I crossed the finish line of the Marine Corp Marathon two weeks ago, I saw the wheelchair that was promised beckon longingly. I immediately collapsed into it and the words “Medical assistance. Please. Thank you.” squirted out of me uncontrollably.
At least it wasn’t poop.
As I was getting pushed like Paul Pierce in the 2008 NBA Finals past the throngs of poor finishers that were still on their feet, the only thoughts going through my head were (i) how spot on that runner’s advice was, (ii) how glad I was for that to be over, and (iii) how much that absolutely sucked.
A marathon is by definition... a marathon. It’s not a 5k run that you can knock out on a lunch break. It’s a long journey with ups, downs, and potential turns into dark places you don’t want to venture too often. Running a successful marathon comes down to managing those ebbs and flows over the course of the race. Not getting too high when you are feeling good and not getting too low when things aren’t looking so hot.
Pacing yourself is especially critical to make sure you have enough in the gas tank to push when things get inevitably more difficult later in the race.
I unfortunately fucked that up.
I came out too fast in the beginning and as I passed that halfway point, I made the slightly concerning mental note that I was more fatigued than I wanted to be at that stage of the race. Three miles later, my pace had cratered, and I was looking ahead at a miserable final 10 miles.
The Pain Cave
“The boxer will bring to the fight everything that is themselves, and everything will be exposed–including secrets about themselves they cannot fully realize” - Joyce Carol Oates
This quote can easily be repurposed to fit any activity that pushes you to your mental or physical capacities.
Marathoners and other endurance athletes like to refer to those moments of a race of maximum pain where you don’t think you can push any further as the Pain Cave. There’s no place to hide, no one to help, and only you can figure out how you’re going to get yourself past the finish line.
It’s also where you learn the most about yourself. The Pain Cave lays bare and exposes who you are in those moments. Are you going to quit or are you going to endure?
My proudest accomplishment during my first marathon two years ago wasn’t the time I ran; it was the fact that I never stopped once during the entire race. Even deep in the Pain Cave past mile 24, I kept going without slowing to a walk. Those moments stick with you much more than the arbitrary time you clock.
This time, I stopped at a portapotty at the halfway point because I “needed” to pee. But really it was a small give that would lead to more later. The back half was littered with short periods of walking as I battled to finish the race. Not exactly the end of the world, but it felt like an L that I didn’t take two years ago.
Finally, as I approached the finish line, I gave one final push to run the final 100 meters and crossed the finish line with my head held high before mercifully flailing into that wheelchair. I ended up finishing with a time of 3 hours 43 minutes, a seven-minute improvement over my time two years ago. Despite the new PR, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I had fallen short of my more ambitious goal time and thought I gave a little mentally during the final parts of the race.
As I reflected on the experience, I realized the entire race was a microcosm of how my life had been trending. Lately, I had been letting myself off the hook and hitting the easy button more often in my day-to-day: sleeping in later, saying yes to that dessert, or doom scrolling instead of getting to bed. I hid all that behind the perfect excuse of: "Two kids are so much work." It is a great excuse! Two toddlers are a lot of work.
Like walking at the end of a marathon, sleeping in until 7 AM isn't a disaster. But it's usually the difference between starting the day on your own terms and starting it on defense. That choice makes an enormous difference in your energy and how you show up that day. There are endless reasons for "needing" that extra hour of sleep, but excuses have a way of stacking up over time. Eventually they stop being excuses and become the default.
When the marathon got hard, I defaulted to the easy button. Unfortunately, the easy button no longer worked in the Pain Cave. The only thing to do was suffer and endure.
The Lesson in Presence
The weeks after the marathon were for rest, reflection, and figuring out what comes next. One evening, I had an eye-opening interaction with Julian that reminded me where my real focus belonged.
We were in that classic post-bath to pre-bed phase that kids love to extend as long as possible. We were planning to play a simple drawing game: Julian would call out a favorite character - Elmo, Thomas the Train, or Spider-man - and I would attempt to draw it on a small dry erase board.
The markers were out and ready to go. But in that moment, a few "urgent” thoughts crossed my mind, something I “couldn’t forget”. I quickly pulled out my notebook to jot them down. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but by the time I looked back up, Julian had started doodling by himself. When I asked him if he was ready to play, he told me to go play with Serena.
That broke my heart a little.
I had been looking forward to some 1-on-1 time with him that I had sacrificed over the past months focusing on training, only for him to dismiss me so absolutely. In that moment, I saw my mistake: I let myself get distracted by something that was not important, instead of focusing fully on him during that time. Kids are incredibly perceptive. They live fully in the moment and can instantly sense when they aren’t being prioritized. They will move on and that moment can vanish.
I realized I had been doing that at a macro level throughout my training. As my time and energy were consumed by miles, I became less present when I was at home. Nighttime should have been reserved for pure play and bedtime stories, but I found myself rushing through it, mentally counting down the clock until they were asleep so I could start my routine. I was forcing my kids to fit into my schedule, instead of allowing my life to flow around them.
Wu Wei – The Taoist Concept of Effortless Action
The Taoists have a concept called Wu Wei. It is often translated as 'non-action' or 'effortless action.' It represents the principle of living in harmony with the natural flow of life, rather than forcing specific outcomes. When you achieve Wu Wei, you move with the current, trusting that the natural rhythm will take you where you need to be.
My life had become the opposite of Wu Wei. I was so regimented, trying to hammer training, work, and family into a rigid 24-hour day. Everything was getting done, but none of it felt natural. It all felt forced. As a result, everything became hard: Waking up was hard. Showing up to run was hard. Getting the kids to bed was hard. Even falling asleep was hard
When life becomes a checklist, you eventually start going through the motions, instead of truly nourishing and building up the most important parts of it. I remember a stretch around mile 23 of the marathon where I was so overcome with emotion that I started tearing up. It wasn’t because of the excruciating pain I was undergoing at that time (although that probably contributed), but I started thinking about my family – how I couldn’t do any of this without them and how lucky I was to have them waiting for me at the finish line. At the end of the day, they are more important than any marathon time will ever be.
While this race may be over, all runners know the finish line is just the start line of the next thing. For me, that will be the 2026 NYC Marathon, but of course, being a dad and husband will always come first.