Does the marathon seem daunting? Walk, don’t run!
When I bring up running a halfmarathon, the typical response I get is something akin to awe. There’s a lot of “Wow, good for you,” and “I could never do that!” Even though I’ve done a sprint triathlon, five half-marathons and countless 5Ks, a number like 13.1 miles can be daunting. That’s how it felt for me as the May 1 date of the Pittsburgh half-marathon approached.
I have a pattern of signing up for races, full of ambition, and then my training slacks off as life and a bit of my own laziness get in the way. So when I got the email from the Pittsburgh Marathon on March 2 introducing a new walking division for the half, a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.
The walking division allowed entrants to walk an average 20minute mile. That’s something a lot of people can do. It was the reason the marathon added the division, according to Troy Schooley, CEO of P3R, which organizes the marathon weekend.
“A lot of people who thought they couldn’t participate, can,” he said.
The decision to add a walking division made sense to P3R, Mr. Schooley said. P3R’s mission is “to inspire any and all to run and MOVE with us,” according to its website. The walking division could attract first-time half-marathon entrants or ease worry in more experienced runners, like me.
“A lot of people coming out of COVID-19 may not be ready for a 15-minute mile,” Mr. Schooley said. Those same people still want the full experience after two years of virtual-only offerings. The solution was the walking division. The marathon even offered an eightweek training plan for walkers.
The response has been very positive, Mr. Schooley said. His own mother, an accomplished runner, wasn’t going to sign up for the race this year because she didn’t feel ready. Mr. Schooley said she decided to after the walking division was introduced. She wasn’t alone.
About 500 people signed up for the division, which Mr. Schooley said he thought was the first of its kind. He also said he anticipates that number will double next year as word spreads.
“So many people have reached out to say thank you for being able
to be at the start line,” he said.
I was particularly grateful on May 1 at the starting line, in Corral E, the last in the starting chute. It was already drizzling and the forecast was for bouts of heavy rain, thunder and lightning. Amid the swish and rustling of ponchos and rain jackets, I began my 13.1 miles around 7:30 a.m. with the rest of the walking division with the same goal I always have: finish the race. I carried on knowing I didn’t have to do the constant math in my head mile by mile to make sure I finished within the course limit.
Ahead of me, a walker wore a green turtle shell proclaiming “Team turtle: Slow as shell.” It made me laugh as the rain started to come down in earnest. Wet feet and socks on slick roads don’t make for fast or easy going. By the time I passed the halfway point, I was decently miserable – I was wearing cotton socks instead of wool like I should have been (a lesson thoroughly learned); my rain jacket was more “water resistant” than “waterproof,” and I still had over 6 miles to go. But a man and woman tucked under an overpass gave me a little boost with their cheer: “You’re out here doing it!”
I sure was. As another deluge of rain hit a few miles later, it struck me that the elite runners who started a full half hour before Corral E weren’t in this rain. They took off before the rain started coming down hard and would end up missing the thunder and lightning. My fellows and I were out here in it, and we were still going.
Somewhere across the West End Bridge, a woman dancing in the drizzle with her friends cheered at me as I trotted by: “You’re doing it!” Then, as an aside to her companions, “It’s more than I am, that’s for sure.”
That’s what the walking division gave me and so many others: the opportunity to do it. I can’t rightly advocate for my laissezfaire way of training (which was a 5K run every weekend of April, including the marathon weekend’s 5K on April 30) but I can say that anyone who walked with me is an accomplished racer.
“Crossing the finish line at any time is worthy of celebration.”
—Natalie Duleba
Mr. Schooley agrees. “You got the same medal, the same shirt, on the same course,” he said.
I used to live in Alaska, and in sled dog racing, there’s a Red Lantern award, which is given to the final finisher. Being last isn’t seen as shameful or a failure. Take it from the last place finisher in the women’s 25-29 category of this year’s half-marathon: crossing the finish line at any time is worthy of celebration.