Note by KC: For those who have not run a marathon before, do you know what is the actual distance? I have had a rude awakening when one of my lady colleagues thought that the distance of a marathon is only 10 kilometers (6 miles) due to the misleading banners that promote 10km runs locally. But for those who have run numerous marathons, I believe you could even get it right in your dreams.
The story below narrates humorously the origin and how the distance was computed – something like history lesson amid modern running. Note: 1 mile is 1.6 kilometers. Read on and be amused …
Text is extracted from the book “I Run, Therefore I am – Nuts!” by Bob Schwartz
Many of us know what it's like to run a marathon, not all of us know the history behind it. Perhaps you know that it has something to with a Greek battle, but maybe for all you know it might have been Phi Kappa Delta versus Sigma Nu. Well, I'm here to change all that. I'm the history professor in the micro fleece tights and the reflective pullover. Let's begin today's lesson.
Legend has it that the first famous long-distance runner (well before endorsement deals with shoe companies and guaranteed race-appearance fees) emerged from the plains of Marathon, Greece, in 490 b.c.
After the Athenians had defeated the Persians at the Battle of Marathon (which has a better ring than, say, the Battle of Dhidhimotikhonopolis—you'd be hard pressed to get that on a race T-shirt), the Greek warrior Pheidippides was chosen to bring the news of the great victory to the citizens of Athens. Problem was, the city was many, many miles off in the distance and the invention of the automobile or any form of mass transit was still a few years away.
So, young Pheidippides began running the approximately 26 miles from Marathon to Athens without the advantage of a big, carbo-loading pasta dinner the night before. He also ran without the benefit of aid stations, course volunteers, energy bars, bands playing music, or cheering spectators yelling, "You're looking great!" He also did not have the advantages of air-cushioned shoes, polyester shorts, or race directors at the finish line saying, "Here comes Mr. Pheidippides from Athens. Occupation is courier. Let's give him a nice round of I applause!"
Pheidippides also fell victim to a common training blunder of modern runners. Apparently he'd recently completed, in two days, a little jaunt of 150 miles to Sparta from Marathon in the effort to obtain some military assistance. Clearly, he'd failed to read the overtraining section from Herodotus' Book on Running, or he was simply trying to set a PR (personal record) for a weekly mileage total.
Fact is, because of his recent ultra-event and his ongoing day job of warrior, he didn't allow himself sufficient rest before having to embark on his own marathon. (Of course, he had the better excuse of not actually knowing someone had pre-registered him for the race.) He hit the proverbial wall around the large sign that read, six miles to Athens, and, tragically, he succumbed to exhaustion on the outskirts of the city.
But all was not entirely lost as, in his last gasping and panting breath, he heroically uttered those final words of, "Rejoice, we conquer! Got any sports drink?"
Tragically, it was then that the rigors of the marathon conquered him. For his tremendous effort he would become famous throughout the land. (Truth be known, Greek rumor has it that Pheidippides ran much farther than was necessary. Seems he got turned around slightly, and despite not having the benefit of an AAA TripTik, he chose to be the initiator of that time-honored male tradition – refusing to ask for directions. Then again, what challenges would a marathon be if Athens were really only 7.5 miles away?)
His legacy spawned the inclusion of the marathon race when the Olympics were inaugurated in Greece in 1896. Unfortunately none of the 25 entrants seemed to have gained any lesson from the calamitous outcome of Pheidippides. The runners had pretty much no idea of what they were about to experience. a first-time marathoner encumbered with a healthy dose of naiveté is often not an attractive sight.
.
The participants all struggled to get to the finish line, and only nine actually completed the race. Due to their fatigue at the end, only four were even able to remember their names, and three of them were delirious enough to jump into the Olympic pool, thinking their next event was synchronized swimming. The good news was, in their derangement, they picked up a bronze medal for their impromptu pool performance.
.
As for the gold medalist in the inaugural Olympic marathon, the story is that a local Greek peasant named Spiridon Louis entered the Olympic Stadium first, and slowly ran toward the finish line that was in front of the king’s throne. (However, until I see actual photographs of the finish, I still believe it was a Kenyan that won.) Allegedly, he was covered with dust and running in tattered, bedraggled, worn sandals (state-of-the-art, though). He would cross the finish line in 2 hours, 55 minutes, and 10 seconds for 40K, and his dazed smile was for realizing he'd now qualified for the Boston Marathon.
His life would change forever. Everlasting glory was bestowed on him (once he passed the rigorous drug-screening laboratory) as the host country went ecstatic. He was given 25,000 francs (perhaps thereby becoming the first athlete to lose his amateur status), and he was finally given permission by his future father-in-law to marry his longtime sweetheart (purportedly a bronze medalist in the badminton competition). Ah, the romance of running.
At the 1908 Olympics in London, the marathon distance was changed from 24.85 to 26 miles, to cover the ground from Windsor Castle to White City Stadium. You may then wonder, where did that lovely 385 yards get tacked on? It was added so that the race could finish in front of King Edward VII’s royal box. Thus, the present distance of 26.2 miles. And many a present-day marathoner wishes Windsor Castle were just a tad bit closer to the king’s box when they find themselves doing the merciless march over the last mile of a marathon.
The story below narrates humorously the origin and how the distance was computed – something like history lesson amid modern running. Note: 1 mile is 1.6 kilometers. Read on and be amused …
Text is extracted from the book “I Run, Therefore I am – Nuts!” by Bob Schwartz
Many of us know what it's like to run a marathon, not all of us know the history behind it. Perhaps you know that it has something to with a Greek battle, but maybe for all you know it might have been Phi Kappa Delta versus Sigma Nu. Well, I'm here to change all that. I'm the history professor in the micro fleece tights and the reflective pullover. Let's begin today's lesson.
Legend has it that the first famous long-distance runner (well before endorsement deals with shoe companies and guaranteed race-appearance fees) emerged from the plains of Marathon, Greece, in 490 b.c.
After the Athenians had defeated the Persians at the Battle of Marathon (which has a better ring than, say, the Battle of Dhidhimotikhonopolis—you'd be hard pressed to get that on a race T-shirt), the Greek warrior Pheidippides was chosen to bring the news of the great victory to the citizens of Athens. Problem was, the city was many, many miles off in the distance and the invention of the automobile or any form of mass transit was still a few years away.
So, young Pheidippides began running the approximately 26 miles from Marathon to Athens without the advantage of a big, carbo-loading pasta dinner the night before. He also ran without the benefit of aid stations, course volunteers, energy bars, bands playing music, or cheering spectators yelling, "You're looking great!" He also did not have the advantages of air-cushioned shoes, polyester shorts, or race directors at the finish line saying, "Here comes Mr. Pheidippides from Athens. Occupation is courier. Let's give him a nice round of I applause!"
Pheidippides also fell victim to a common training blunder of modern runners. Apparently he'd recently completed, in two days, a little jaunt of 150 miles to Sparta from Marathon in the effort to obtain some military assistance. Clearly, he'd failed to read the overtraining section from Herodotus' Book on Running, or he was simply trying to set a PR (personal record) for a weekly mileage total.
Fact is, because of his recent ultra-event and his ongoing day job of warrior, he didn't allow himself sufficient rest before having to embark on his own marathon. (Of course, he had the better excuse of not actually knowing someone had pre-registered him for the race.) He hit the proverbial wall around the large sign that read, six miles to Athens, and, tragically, he succumbed to exhaustion on the outskirts of the city.
But all was not entirely lost as, in his last gasping and panting breath, he heroically uttered those final words of, "Rejoice, we conquer! Got any sports drink?"
Tragically, it was then that the rigors of the marathon conquered him. For his tremendous effort he would become famous throughout the land. (Truth be known, Greek rumor has it that Pheidippides ran much farther than was necessary. Seems he got turned around slightly, and despite not having the benefit of an AAA TripTik, he chose to be the initiator of that time-honored male tradition – refusing to ask for directions. Then again, what challenges would a marathon be if Athens were really only 7.5 miles away?)
His legacy spawned the inclusion of the marathon race when the Olympics were inaugurated in Greece in 1896. Unfortunately none of the 25 entrants seemed to have gained any lesson from the calamitous outcome of Pheidippides. The runners had pretty much no idea of what they were about to experience. a first-time marathoner encumbered with a healthy dose of naiveté is often not an attractive sight.
.
The participants all struggled to get to the finish line, and only nine actually completed the race. Due to their fatigue at the end, only four were even able to remember their names, and three of them were delirious enough to jump into the Olympic pool, thinking their next event was synchronized swimming. The good news was, in their derangement, they picked up a bronze medal for their impromptu pool performance.
.
As for the gold medalist in the inaugural Olympic marathon, the story is that a local Greek peasant named Spiridon Louis entered the Olympic Stadium first, and slowly ran toward the finish line that was in front of the king’s throne. (However, until I see actual photographs of the finish, I still believe it was a Kenyan that won.) Allegedly, he was covered with dust and running in tattered, bedraggled, worn sandals (state-of-the-art, though). He would cross the finish line in 2 hours, 55 minutes, and 10 seconds for 40K, and his dazed smile was for realizing he'd now qualified for the Boston Marathon.
His life would change forever. Everlasting glory was bestowed on him (once he passed the rigorous drug-screening laboratory) as the host country went ecstatic. He was given 25,000 francs (perhaps thereby becoming the first athlete to lose his amateur status), and he was finally given permission by his future father-in-law to marry his longtime sweetheart (purportedly a bronze medalist in the badminton competition). Ah, the romance of running.
At the 1908 Olympics in London, the marathon distance was changed from 24.85 to 26 miles, to cover the ground from Windsor Castle to White City Stadium. You may then wonder, where did that lovely 385 yards get tacked on? It was added so that the race could finish in front of King Edward VII’s royal box. Thus, the present distance of 26.2 miles. And many a present-day marathoner wishes Windsor Castle were just a tad bit closer to the king’s box when they find themselves doing the merciless march over the last mile of a marathon.
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