You don’t need to run a full 26.2 miles to finish a marathon; you just need to identify as someone who did.
That’s the absurd consequence of a decision by the LA Marathon to give medals to participants who only make it through about 18 miles.
Runners who quit can claim they were having a “tough day,” and receive the same prize as those who actually finished.
It’s the equivalent of a participation trophy, which nobody wants once they’re too old for Pee Wee football.
The whole point of a marathon is to endure a “tough day.”
Runners who train for months understand that their hardest test will come around the 18- or 19-mile mark, when they’ve already put their bodies through incredible torment, but they’re still too far from the finish to feel the adrenaline rush that will carry them through the home stretch.
The infamous “Heartbreak Hill” of the Boston Marathon is between the 20th and 21st mile. And it’s not even a steep hill — just a gradual climb that is as much a test of mental strength as it is a test of physical endurance.
There is no shame in dropping out of a marathon if you’ve given it your best. Marathons are hardly races fit for human bodies, despite the large number of people who have taken up the sport of distance running.
Recall that the man who ran the original distance from Marathon to Athens in 490 B.C. to announce the Greek victory over the Persians fell over dead as soon as he delivered the message.
And deaths are not uncommon in today’s races, despite available medical help.
The weather for this year’s LA Marathon is uncommonly hot. And the Santa Ana winds have been a challenge for the city.
So what?
Any runner can decide not to participate — or to adjust strategies to take advantage of water breaks and rest areas. There’s no such thing as an ideal marathon course — even in Southern California.
We need to understand that in life, not everyone gets a prize. You have to strive, and in the striving you earn your reward. That’s the whole point of a marathon: the challenge.
If you have to pull up at Mile 18, all of your fellow runners will recognize that you are probably making a wise decision. You will always have your runner’s bib to remember your experience — and to inspire you to try again.
But you do not deserve a medal.
Giving medals to people who do not finish cheapens the achievements of those who do, and robs runners who fall short of the motivation to try again — to train harder, to plan smarter, to eat better.
Worse, the race organizers seem determined to help runners pretend they finished when they fail to do so. “You do not need to notify anyone of your decision” to quit and take the medal, they say.
Talk about stolen valor.
There is enough fakery in sports without participation trophies.
