Eugene Marathon 2025: When the Body Says No

April 27, 2025

Returning to Eugene this year felt like coming full circle.

Two years ago, I ran my PR here—2:17—and left with the belief that something bigger was within reach. After months of training that were stronger and more consistent than anything I’d done before, I came back aiming for 2:12.

The Build-Up

Training for this race was everything I wanted it to be—disciplined, consistent, and relentless. Over 21 weeks, I averaged 107 miles a week and peaked at 133. I stayed healthy, hit my workouts, and felt dialed in. I knew what I was chasing and felt like I’d done the work to deserve it.

Race Day: Perfect Conditions, Uneasy Start

Eugene delivered ideal weather on race morning—cool, overcast, no wind. I toed the line with confidence. But within the first mile, that confidence started to crack. My legs felt heavy. Not stiff or sluggish—heavy, like the pop and spring had been drained out of them overnight.

I gave it a few miles, hoping it was just nerves or early-race tightness. But by mile 4, I had to face reality: the goal pace of 5:05s wasn’t going to hold. I made a conscious decision to back off to 5:15s, settle into a rhythm, and get the most out of whatever kind of day this was going to be.

Mile 16: A Flicker of Hope

At mile 16, I caught the leader. It gave me a brief lift—maybe I was coming around, maybe the second half could still turn into something special. But even as I moved into first, the effort still felt wrong. There was no change in gears, no surge left to make. I was holding on, not building.

Mile 18: The Turning Point

Then another runner—not the original leader, but someone else—came by at 18. He wasn’t pulling away with some dramatic move, just running steady. I tried to go with him, but my body simply wouldn’t respond. I watched the gap grow, step by step, knowing it wasn’t about tactics or mindset—my legs just couldn’t go.

The Final Miles

The closing stretch was a quiet grind. No wall, no dramatic fade—just steady fatigue and acceptance. I kept moving, kept racing, kept trying to finish with whatever I had left.

I crossed the line at Hayward Field in 2:21:11. Not what I came for, but it was all I had on the day.

Lessons Learned

In the days since, I’ve replayed the buildup and the race. I think I overdid it. The fitness was there—but I may have left too much on the training roads and not enough in the tank for race day. It’s a hard truth to face after months of focus, but one I’ll carry forward.

This one hurt. But I’m proud of how I handled it. I didn’t fold. I adjusted. I competed.

I still believe there’s more in me. Just not this time.