reflection - my most difficult marathon: 26.2 in Long Beach
- Johny Walsh
- Oct 7
- 10 min read
I completed my 5th marathon this past Sunday in Long Beach, California. People often ask me what my goals are for a marathon, and I always joke ‘to finish healthy and to not shit myself.’ Those are real goals, for sure, but I’m usually going into a race with the goal of getting a new Personal Record (PR). The Long Beach Marathon was not the race result I had expected or trained hard to achieve the past several months, but with reflection, I think it might have been the most rewarding marathon experience I’ve had so far.
My most difficult marathon: 26.2 in Long Beach wasn’t my slowest race result, but it was close, and coming off a previous sub-4 hour finish in Orange County, it was impossible not to feel disappointed when I realized the results I had worked so hard for just weren’t going to be in the cards for me on Sunday.
My dad’s been in the hospital for over a week, and although I’ve been doing my best to reach out to my support system when I’ve needed help or a sympathetic ear, no amount of well-intentioned processing can really prepare you for being alone with your thoughts for hours on end. Hours alone without a journal to process over a week’s worth of unknowns, of tests, of new information, of more tests, of back-and-forth conversations, and finally, a risky procedure. Honestly, it was pretty naïve of me to think I’d just PR this marathon and be happy as a clam (lol).
In terms of preparation, I was not out of my mind to think I could get another sub-4 hour finish or another PR in this race. I’d trained well for months, hit all my necessary workouts, and honed my fueling. I carbo-loaded for days prior to the race, and I also gave myself other goals unrelated to pace, which helped me feel more balanced during my training. All the data from my training log for the past several months indicated strength and preparedness and a crushing of goals, but even though something looks great on paper, it doesn’t always mean it’s true.
I was cruising through my first stage of the race at a sustainable pace where I felt comfortable. I’d wanted to aim for sub-9-to-9 minute miles for the first 10k, which I did, and held onto that for a few more miles. But no matter how much I tried to turn my thoughts back to running, I couldn’t stop thinking about my dad in the hospital. Miles 9 through 11 were an emotional battlefield where every step felt like dodging a landmine, and I just tried to convince myself to get through one more mile and not give up.
By the time I got to mile 11 (where my boyfriend and I planned I’d see him with his first funny sign of the day) I was spiraling, and the moment I got to him, I hit the landmine that exploded. I was in the throes of a full-blown panic attack complete with tears and gasps for air. I was questioning everything about the race… even though I was still on target to PR. And even though I’d talked with my parents beforehand and they were excited to track my progress from the hospital on the east coast, our original plan before everything went sideways was that they were going to fly in for this race. We’d made plans for them to see my neighborhood, to come to my musical improv comedy show, to go out to breakfast, and to do a big pasta meal Saturday night. But sometimes life has other plans, and it’s not always something we can control. I wanted to quit, to stop running, to DNF.
After finally catching my breath at the mile 11 meetup, I took out my phone and called my mom. She answered, and I’m sure I scared her half to death when she realized I was sobbing on the other end of the phone. I told her I was still running but expressed all these feelings of wondering if I should’ve flown home and how I’d wished they were at the race and how I knew I couldn’t PR this one. She calmed me down, assured me that it was absolutely fine that I hadn’t flown home (I had asked multiple times throughout the week, and it really was okay that I hadn’t), and then handed the phone to my dad (who I’m also sure I scared when he realized I was crying). He told me that a PR didn’t matter and that I should just try to finish because although they were also disappointed they couldn’t attend the marathon weekend like we’d originally planned, they were so proud of me for showing up and trying. He told me, "Go finish your marathon and call us when you’re done," and that was really all I needed to hear. I got off the phone and asked my boyfriend to text my coach about everything and to tell him that I was just going to try to finish and to have some fun along the way. And then I wiped away my tears, put on some Pitbull, and let Mr. Worldwide guide me for the remaining 15.2 miles.
It’s a different experience to run a marathon with no goal of a PR, especially when I had PR’d every marathon up until this one, but something clicked after the phone call with my parents. I didn’t worry about a PR or being fast or even running the entire time. I gave myself permission to just enjoy the miles I had left, to walk if I wanted to, to stop and use a bathroom if I needed to, to laugh at funny signs and yell ‘Go Birds!’ at spectators in Eagles attire. All the stress of the previous week had reached its breaking point back at mile 11, and now I was free to just enjoy 15.2 miles of city I hadn’t really spent any time in before.
The breakdown aside, the first 11 miles of the Long Beach Marathon were breathtaking. With a 5:30 AM start time, I got to see so much beauty before the sun even rose in the sky: the port of Long Beach in peaceful stillness, the Queen Mary lit against a dark sky and black water, people who woke up and showed up early just to stand along the route and cheer on friends and strangers, a slowly lightening sky along the beach that offered the perfect stereotypical shot of California: a lifeguard stand and palm trees overlooking the sea.
Mile 11 is, admittedly, a little hazy because I was “distracted,” but I remember miles 11-15 well. I remember getting to experience an out-and-back situation along an inlet where a pre-sunrise rowing practice was taking place. It reminded me of my freshman year of college, waking up early for rowing practice and getting out on the water before most people had even woken up. Seeing that, remembering how peaceful it was on the water, filled me with joy and a little bit of excitement. It was the memory I needed to refocus on finishing – a feat that seemed impossible at mile 11.
I saw my boyfriend again at mile 15, and I stopped again, but I didn’t cry. I simply told him that I was going to finish the race but that I was going to do whatever it took to simply enjoy it – whether that meant running or walking or dancing. Then I took another Gu gel and told him I’d see him at mile 20.
Miles 15 through 20 went down a regular road and then around the Cal State University Long Beach campus. It was cool to see what the campus looked like and the large blue pyramid where the basketball and volleyball teams play. I went to Villanova where our Pavilion looks like a circus tent, so it was fun for me that the CSULB Blue Pyramid exists. It was also quiet, and I am someone who finds it interesting to see what a campus is like when no one’s around versus when everything’s abuzz.
I made it back to my boyfriend at Mile 20 and made a quick stop for a kiss, knowing that I’d see him again at mile 23. I headed off on my way and had a phone call with my coach. He gave me the coach’s perspective pick-me-up chat I needed, reenforcing that this was not reflective of my preparedness at all, trusting me to finish however I needed to, and reminding me that there will be plenty of other marathons where I can PR. He also encouraged me by letting me know that finishing this race given the breakdown and panic attack and emotional stress of the previous week+ was even more badass than walking away with a PR. I am so grateful to have the absolute best coach for me.
Making it from mile 20 to mile 23 felt like a breeze. I wasn’t fast, but I was losing track of the miles because I wasn’t worrying about them. By the time I got to the mile 23 meeting point, I barely needed encouragement and let my boyfriend know that I was just going to finish as strong as I could. And that’s where Allen comes in.
I don’t know if Allen was his first name or his last name, but it was Cricut-vinyled onto his Nathan hydration backpack twice, so to me, it didn’t matter. He was my Allen, my fellow soldier on the marathon battlefield, my stranger-turned-buddy (in my mind), and I got through those last few miles because of him. The only slip-up I had was when I lost Allen at mile 24 because I fell.
Yes, I fell. And it was very dumb and 100% my fault. The last few miles of the race were streets lined with spectators because it was where the half-marathoners converged with the marathoners (honestly, not my favorite setup, but I digress). I had heard a man’s voice trying to start an Eagles chant at a supporter tent and not a lot of people joined in, so I completely turned my head to the tent, yelled ‘E-A-G-L-E-S! EAGLES!’ and then heard the collective “oooooh!” as suddenly, I was falling and rolling and very confused how I had ended up on the ground. I had run straight into a cone and tripped. Embarrassed, but not hurt, I immediately pushed up off the ground, threw my hands straight up in the air, and yelled ‘touchdown!’ at the tent. Everyone cheered, and as I started running again, a fellow runner gave me a fist bump for my ‘badass touchdown recovery.’ I have now learned not to worry about the miles behind me or about what’s happening on the sidelines. All that matters is that I don’t pull my gaze away from what’s ahead – a great life lesson, both literally and metaphorically.
But back to Allen. I found him again after the great rolling cone touchdown of 2025 and kept my eyes glued ahead on him and his hydration backpack. We ping-ponged a bit for the last portion of the race, weaving our way through the many walkers and joggers of the last couple miles, including the wonderful guy who Hulk-flexed and randomly screamed, ‘I CAN DO THIS!’ at mile 25 (whoever you are, you CAN do this, and you DID do it!), and after splitting off to the right for the marathoners’ finish line, with about 100 yards left, I decided to give my all and sprint to the finish line with everything I had left in the tank. As I was nearly crossing the line, Allen sprinted past me! And I was so fucking happy for him. My heart did a little ‘go Allen! Hell yeah!’ when he crossed the line seconds before me, opening the perfect window for me to get a badass marathon finish photo with no one blocking the camera (thanks again, Allen… for a million reasons).
I made my way to get my medal just behind Allen and then shrieked "Yay! Banana!" when I got my marathon banana (if you don’t know why I’d be so excited, click here to read). I got a bottle of water, some chips, chocolate milk, and some bottles of electrolytes before I noticed I had now lost Allen, having passed him at the banana table (I was truly so excited for my banana). I turned back, found him, and told him, “hey, I couldn’t have finished this without you. I was trailing you and using you as my beacon the last few miles.”
And do you know what Allen said to me? He said, “I was doing the same thing! You were my beacon, too, and when you sprinted at the end, I saw you and thought, ‘yeah, I can do that, too,’ so thank you. You’re an inspiration.”
I didn’t sob when Allen said that to me. Partially because I left all my tears at mile 11, but partially because I believed him - not in the sense that I think I, Johny Walsh, am specifically Allen’s great inspiration. I may have inspired him in that moment to sprint, sure, but I think everyone who finishes a marathon is an inspiration. Seeing someone else do something hard can inspire you to do it, too. And I think, oddly enough, I may have needed this race to remind myself of that.
Because at the end of the day, whether you get that sub-4 or finish just in time for the course limit, you still did it. You’re a marathoner. You completed a huge 26.2 mile feat. Be proud of yourself. Celebrate! Like my coach always reminds me: a marathon is a celebration of your training, not a test of it. Would a PR have been nice for me? Yes, and it was what I wanted. But now that I’ve had some time to reflect, I think this race experience was what I needed: the marathon where I proved to myself I could do it no matter what, no matter how hard.
And hey, just for the record, I technically met my goals: I finished healthy, and I didn’t shit myself.
Wonderful stoty, what a writer you are! Such great emphasis on each part of your journey! Know always, that you are not a quitter! You are stronger than you think . You are always encouraging others in all the walks of life, and we are more than proud of you! We followed you all the way! You are our Cakers, Johny, and we love you forever!