I ran my first marathon in 2008 in Potsdam, Germany. But that wasn’t my first marathon experience.

My first marathon experience came two years before that in Mombasa, Kenya. I didn’t run, but rather I helped organize the first (and only) Americans in Mombasa Marathon.

It was the summer of 2006, and I was in Mombasa learning Swahili with a small group of Americans. Several were runners, and two had the bright idea of running a marathon. Their first. On their own.

So I pitched in. We measured out a course–nearly a dozen laps along Mama Ngina Drive, with beautiful ocean views. Bright and early one weekend they set out, and I set up shop outside the Florida Club halfway along the course with water, candy, and other essentials. Time and time again they went by, and each time I recorded their time and helped them refuel and rehydrate.

Then came the moment of truth–the lead runner passed me on her way out for the second to last time, and I started back towards the start/finish line. It was a bit of a hike, and I knew I’d need a little time to get the finish prepared. So instead of waiting with food and water at the Florida Club, I waited at Treasury Square, closer to home base. After the lead runner headed out on the last lap, I’d head to the finish.

As she finished her second to last lap, the lead runner shook her head. She stopped for some water, and I asked her what was wrong.

“I was so mad at you, Jason!” she told me. “I thought you abandoned me!” Turns out I hadn’t made my plan clear. When she got to the old aid station location, suffering more than ever in the African heat, I had simply vanished, and it appeared she was out of luck for the rest of the race.

Fortunately she made it to my new, temporary aid station, and with my (minor) help she ultimately finished her first marathon, with an (unofficial) Boston qualifying time! (The other runner finished as well, with the help of a friendly local pacing her on bike.)

Some used public transportation. Others had faster runners race in their place.

Did these dishonest runners hope to set a record, or claim a cash prize? No. They wanted to get an education.

If they run a marathon in good time, students can earn extra points for the “‘gaokao”, the entrance examination for China’s highly competitive universities that some children and their parents will go to huge lengths to shine in.

With 50,000 participants, the 200 race officials had a hard time keeping track of everybody. Only later review of photos and video from the race revealed the students’ tricks.

Other students have been caught cheating on the entrance exam itself.

(via RunNow)

It’s one of my worst fears when it comes to marathons: missing the start because I’m stuck in line for (or inside of!) a port-a-potty, or on the wrong side of a large crowd, or whatever. So I try to show up early. Maybe something like that motivated Georgene Johnson back in May of 1990. According to the St. Petersburg Times, “Runner Georgene Johnson got to the starting line 15 minutes early. The mistake cost her 20 miles and aching knees, but she said Monday she’s proud of the foul-up.”

That’s right. She showed up at the Revco-Cleveland Marathon intending to take part in the 10k but ended up running the full marathon.

She realized her error when she and 4,000 or so other runners left the downtown area. Fortunately, by mile seven Georgene encountered a friendly runner with some good advice: slow down, and once you make it to the halfway point you can get a ride back.

But when she did reach the halfway mark she was feeling pretty good, so she carried on. “I got to the 20 and it was like, well, I only have 10K left,” she told the Times.

Her time? Better than my first marathon! She finished in 4:04, despite never having run more than eight miles.

This was in part because no standard existed in 1908. Olympic Committee guidelines suggested 40 km, but this was not set in stone. So, when presented with the task of designing a marathon course, London’s leading athletic club–the Polytechnic Harriers–designed one that ran from Windor Castle through the countryside and small towns surrounding London to the stadium at Shepherd’s Bush. This way the royal family would see the runners off at the start and, along with a crowd of spectators, view the finish.

However, the distance from castle to stadium was 26 miles (42 km). On top of that were an additional 586 yards and 2 feet to allow the competitors to finish the race with a lap around the track. But it turned out that the royal entrance the Polytechnic Harriers had planned on using to bring runners into the stadium would not be available. Instead, organizers chose another entrance and changed the direction finishers would run around the track from the standard counter-clockwise to clockwise. In so doing the final distance for the race was reduced to the now standard 26 miles 385 yards.

It was not until 1921 that the International Amateur Athletic Federation standardized the length of marathons at 26 miles 385 yards, and not until 1924 that another Olympic marathon featured that distance. But in the meantime a number of races took place that matched the one run in London. This was a result of the dramatic finish, which in addition to Longboat’s surprising DNF and the poor performance of British runners also saw Dorando Pietri struggling into the stadium, crossing the line ahead of Johnny Hayes only with the help of Olympic officials. Pietri was ultimately disqualified and Hayes won the race, but both competed in numerous rematches in the years that followed, helping to cement the place of the 1908 Olympics in marathon history, and along with it the distance we’ve all come to know so well.

For the full story see Martin Polley, ”From Windsor Castle to White City: The 1908 Olympic Marathon Route,” The London Journal, Volume 34, Number 2, July 2009 , 163-178.

Matui was part of a group of 14 runners who missed a turn in a narrow, twisting portion of the route, which shaved 400 metres off the course and more than a minute off their times.

A pack of runners spotted the errant group turning on to Sussex Drive from another road 100 metres ahead of them.

Marathon organizers said the confusion occurred when a group of high school students left their post at a barricade to talk to some friends at the next corner. While the volunteers were gone, a motorist moved the barricade.

An embarrassing turn of events for race organizers to be sure. To make things right, runners in the group of 14 who would have earned cash prizes were compensated by the organizers, and their times were not disqualified entirely, but rather they were marked with an asterisk indicating their status as “non-ratified results”.

Nothing, not even a train, could stop Kenyan Simon Sawe from winning the Des Moines Marathon for the second time.

Sawe was leading countryman David Tuwei by 10 seconds when, after a left turn onto the final stretch on Southwest Fourth, he stared right at a train passing on the road.

“Nobody is prepared for that scenario,” said Sawe, the inaugural champion in 2002. “I couldn’t believe it. It was a long train.”

Tuwei caught the 40-year-old Sawe and the two waited … and waited … and waited for the train to pass. Third-place Geoffrey Birgen had nearly caught the two leaders when the train finally crossed the street about 40 to 50 seconds later.

Onondaga distance runner Thomas Longboat

While it’s certainly unusual, this sort of interruption is not unprecedented. In 1907 no less a race than the Boston Marathon had the same thing happen. In this instance, however, the train didn’t hold up the leaders: according to the Boston Globe, around a dozen had crossed tracks in Framingham when the gates came down and a freight train passed by, holding the rest of the pack up for nearly a minute. Running legend Thomas Longboat went on to win the race, though Robert J. Fowler (you know, of the Cambridgeport gym association) complained that he “coulda been a contender” were it not for the train.

Longboat’s finish in 2:24:24 set a new a course record, although at the time the course was (purposely) only 24.5 miles.

During a run I don’t eat very much at all. Sometimes I don’t eat anything, but when I do it’s never more than 400 calories. Typically it’s more like 200 calories, usually in the form of granola bars (I’ve been trying to avoid expensive products marketed to runners). Right before a run I often have a banana or apple sauce. Whatever I eat right before or during a run, it’s usually more to prevent my stomach from feeling too empty than to provide fuel for the run.

So why do I run so much?

1. Because I like to eat;
2. because I want to push myself and discover my limits;
3. because I enjoy it.