Sergio and I are competitors. We love each other, but put a start line in front of us and something shifts. We push each other, we race each other, and more often than not, we’re keeping quiet track of who crosses first. That’s who we are, but this race was different. This was the one I couldn’t have done without him.
How I Ended Up Running a Marathon
The plan was never to run a marathon. We meant to sign up for the half, but we dragged our feet on registering, and by the time we got around to it the race had filled up. We joined the waitlist and hoped, and eventually a spot opened up, though only for the full marathon.
I was ready to accept my losses, but Sergio had a different plan. He encouraged me to sign up with him, promising he’d run it with me and pace me the whole way. I hadn’t run a marathon since 2013. It was rewarding, sure, but let’s be honest, running 26.2 miles isn’t exactly most people’s idea of a good time. Once felt like enough. But with the race still months away, it sounded like a great idea.
The First Half
This time, there was no stroller, no boys on the sidelines, no familiar faces waiting at the finish. Just the two of us and 26.2 miles.
And honestly? If Sergio hadn’t been there, I think I might still be out there trying to finish.
The first half went well. We paced ourselves, settled into a rhythm, and I felt strong. Sergio was in great shape and turned out to be an excellent pacer, keeping us steady and calm. Early on, we ran alongside the 5-hour pacer. I wasn’t there to race Sergio, but old habits die hard, and the five-hour pace sign became my new rival. I couldn’t believe we’d run past the pacer. I hadn’t trained much for this race, and yet here I was, flying through the early miles. The course was buzzing with race-day energy, crowds cheering, music playing, and strangers calling out to keep us going. The thought that I was on track to finish under five hours had me so excited. Every so often I’d glance back to spot the pacer, but he was nowhere to be found.
The Second Half
We were running through downtown Miami, coming up on the half marathon finish. The crowd’s energy was electric, the kind that makes you want to sprint. Sergio kept telling me to slow down, but I was feeling great and didn’t listen.
Then the half marathon runners peeled off toward their finish line, and the marathon runners turned the opposite way, out for another 13.1 miles. All at once, the energy vanished. It went quiet, just a few scattered spectators cheering us on. I remembered what a fellow marathoner told me at the start of my very first marathon. Don’t fly, fry, and die. That was exactly what I had done.
I was crossing over a bridge when the 5-hour pacer passed me. Watching him move ahead shut something down in me. I struggled to keep up, and he kept getting farther and farther away, until I had to accept that under five hours wasn’t going to happen. Considering I hadn’t really followed a training plan, I hadn’t earned it anyway.
I was in pain. It was hot. I needed to walk, a lot. This was the part of the race where, on my own, I would have unraveled. But Sergio gave me exactly what I needed. Space when I needed to slow down, and motivation when I needed to keep moving. He didn’t push too hard or coddle me. He stayed beside me, positive and patient, mile after mile.
We usually compete against each other. This time, I simply needed him, and I was so grateful he was there.
The Finish
We finished strong. I was completely exhausted, but I had done it. My second marathon, more than a decade after my first. And for the record, after all those miles of Sergio pacing me, encouraging me, and carrying me through, I still crossed the line a millisecond before he did. Someone had to.
Before this race, I always said I’d never run another marathon. Yet here I was over ten years later, having done it for the second time. Funny how that works.
This race taught me something. I don’t train much, which is pretty common for me, and I got away with it, sort of. Even so, something clicked as I crossed that finish line, a truth I’d felt building for a while. Real results don’t come from race day. They come from the work you put in over time, from the miles nobody sees and the discipline stacked up week after week.
That realization is a big part of why we started The Endurance Family in the first place.
Because now I want something bigger. I want to run marathons all over the world, to chase the kind of challenge that once felt impossible. But first, I have to earn it.
This is the long run.
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