Types of runners you encounter at a marathon

With sometimes thousands of runners at a marathon, it’s truly a colorful lineup at the starting line. Beyond a race, the marathon is a human adventure bringing together different profiles over 42.195 km. We’re speaking of course about the elite runner, the warriors of the impossible, or the tourist who turned up without any training runs. All these types of runners represent a fascinating ecosystem unique to the marathon. In short, if you’ve ever run a marathon, you’ve undoubtedly encountered one of them, and if you haven’t, it’s probably because you are that type of runner yourself.

The shooting star who crashes at the 30th km

You spot them quickly at the start. Ripped calves, high-end outfit, shoes with the latest technology. You know, your neighbor knows, everyone knows: they’re going to clock an amazing time. Of course, an amazing time means a crazy pace. They’re in the same corral as you (yes, the 4h30 one), but this person has no business being there since they’re supposedly “in the shape of their life.” The shooting star, as the name implies, speeds away. Naturally, by the 2nd kilometer, they’re out of sight. The star shines, the star speeds… right into a wall. Yes, you’ll find the shooting star at the 30th kilometer, in the recovery position and negotiating with their soul to finish the race.

The runner in name only

At a glance, they might be mistaken for the shooting star. The closer you get to this phenomenon (and yes, with this look, we’re talking about a phenomenon), the more you realize they’re not the shooting star but the runner in name only. The runner in name only dazzles in the sun because their gear is state-of-the-art. From head to toe, here we go! The latest $400 carbon shoes, because, according to a study, “They shave three minutes off your marathon time.” The problem is, when worn for the first time, they give you blisters and tendinitis. Compression socks for style, because honestly, no one knows what they’re for or how they work. Ultra-technical clothing, of course, matching the carbon shoes, to give the illusion of a sponsorship. A GPS watch that could pilot a satellite, featuring VO2 max tracking, vertical oscillation calculation, and karma analysis. Super-light glasses worn even in bad weather. Finally, an astronomical amount of energy gels. Enough to sustain an ultra, but that won’t stop them from hitting the wall at km 27. A cutting-edge kit for a sum three times your salary, all to end up walking. Well done, champion.

The influencer

You see it coming, the Instagram post from that guy at the start who captures absolutely everything on video? Minimum three recap reels post-race. It’ll take you the equivalent of two lunch breaks to get through the account. The influencer isn’t here to run a marathon. No, they’re at the starting line to tell an inspiring story. They have thousands of followers (probably just a hundred in reality) and will share THEIR ENTIRE race live with their #community. A word of advice: steer clear of the influencer if you don’t want to lose your cool after 20 minutes of running. Because yes, every kilometer, you’ll hear their sweet voice: “Hey guys, km 25, still on fire! Never give up, the goal is to have fun!”

Usain Bolt

Hard to spot at the starting line or along the route. Usain Bolt is a regular runner enduring the marathon. After 30 km, he alternates between running and walking, takes 10-minute breaks at every aid station, and even considers calling an Uber. Usain Bolt only truly reveals himself at the end of the race. While he seems utterly exhausted, battling against pain and fatigue, a mystical force seizes him. In the distance, the finish line arch. The crowd gathered en masse to cheer the survivors of the race applauds the runners. The announcer has been cheering into the microphone for over 4 hours, motivating the troops in the final meters. Usain Bolt straightens up. Usain Bolt picks up the pace. Usain Bolt kicks into high gear for no apparent reason. In an instant, he transforms from “survivor of the 30 km wall” to “Olympic 100-meter finalist.” He passes you, without a glance, without a word. Bolt raises his arms as he crosses the finish line, and that’s the cherry on the cake.

The elite (the one you never encounter)

Let’s be honest, you’ll only see them once. At that moment, they’ll be stepping down from the podium while you’re trying to muster some energy to get up from the finish area. They’ll be showered, have done their 10 km cool down (faster than your race pace, of course), and answered dozens of questions from the international press. The day’s winner will also mention that this was just a final prep race before the Olympics. Then, they’ll head to the airport. Tomorrow, a 4-week training camp begins in Iten, Kenya.

The indestructible veteran

He’s there, cool as can be, wearing the same shoes as in his first marathon… 40 years ago. No unnecessary gear, no warm-up beyond a few stretches. The shorts and t-shirt (faded from too much sun) likely have more marathon experience than you. It’s Sunday, and Michel, 65 years old, is here for his Sunday stroll. Naturally, as a 34-year-old runner, your goal changed the moment you spotted Michel in your starting corral. Finish before him. In the first few kilometers, while you’re struggling to find your breath and pace, Michel remains chill. Mouth half-opened, relaxed posture, “economizing,” as he says. As you hit the 30 km wall, Michel is chatting with the volunteers: “Ah, today’s marathons aren’t like they used to be! Back in the 80s, there was only one aid station, and it offered red wine!” What follows is a true lesson in humility. When you think Michel is starting to tire, you’re absolutely wrong. Not only does the old-timer not slow down, but he speeds up. At the finish, he’ll admit he just jogged occasionally while you had followed a 12-week boot camp. Yes, Michel is indestructible.

The chatterbox

If there’s one runner who doesn’t understand the concept of effort, it’s this one. While three-quarters of the field are battling to finish this marathon, the chatterbox just keeps talking. In the crowd, you hear them before you see them. While you desperately try to manage your breath, the chatterbox is giving a full lecture on their recent trip to Tanzania. For 42.195 km, you get an entire account of their past African adventure. Several times, you attempt to respond, showing signs of fatigue. They don’t pick up on any of your distress signals and continue: “Have you ever been to Africa? Because, let me tell you…” and off they go again. It won’t shock you to learn that they never stop talking. It all culminates at the finish line when they say, “That marathon was so fun together! Shall we do it again soon?”

The perpetual injury

The list is long, almost never-ending. Yes, we’re talking about their list of physical issues over the past six months. A nagging strain persisting for several weeks, tendinitis following an interval session, a bad back… Every muscle gets a mention. In short, they probably shouldn’t even be here and are on the verge of dropping out, but they give it a go anyway. Of course, you show compassion: “Wow… Respect, but take care of yourself!” Noticeable by their famous multicolored tapes stuck all over their legs. It’s hard to tell if it’s carnival day or the marathon of the year. You start the race with them, not expecting to see them with a still-light stride at the 10th kilometer. By the 15th, they speed up, distancing themselves until they’re out of sight by the 25th. They’ll wait for you at the finish, saying, “Turns out, I made it, and got a personal best!” Trickster.

The escapee from the elite corral

There’s our champion. With a determined look, they stand front and center among the (actual) elites. One might think they’re playing in the big leagues, but you know better. Their four-digit bib number confirms it: they don’t belong there. A registration error, a bold gamble, overconfidence—we don’t know why they ended up in this corral. The gun goes off, and the elites set off at a blistering pace. The escapee from the elite corral tries to keep up, a futile attempt ending after 500 meters. Their face rapidly changes color. They quickly turn red, then go pale after a few kilometers. The true elites have been out of sight for a while now. They must slow down, get overtaken, slow down more and more. It’s only logical when you start in the deep red from the get-go. At this point, they’re no longer an elite; they’re our world champion of foolishness. Next year, they’ll aim for a more suitable corral… or so we hope.

The barefoot runner

Not much needs to be said about this one. Easily spotted in the crowd because they’ve decided, for reasons unknown, to run barefoot. We’re talking about a very minimalist runner here. A light tank top, baggy shorts, maybe a cap if it’s (very) hot. Gels, drinks, water, GPS watch—nope, none of that. The worst part is, this person moves faster than you and your carbon shoes bought at the price of a month’s rent.

You

Maybe you don’t see yourself in these types of runners today, or maybe you tick a few boxes. In any case, you’re probably the struggler, like everyone else in the end.