Does the Marathon Need a Hug?

A few quick (slow) thoughts from the couch two weeks post-marathon, having turned up the dial on recovery/reflection mode as we edge closer to the last week of 2025. I’ll be honest when I say my legs and brain are not back at full capacity right now, but I have a very simple, tentative concept I’d like to throw into the ring after a full year of storm chasing* - being in and around marathons all over the world.

I’ll pose it as a question, because I want to be challenged on this. I only have access to my own brain, some injury research, and a very high step count across a collection of global marathons, and that doesn’t feel like enough. But here it is: does the sport of marathon need a soft re-brand? Do marathoners - and the driving forces behind them - need a hug, a few days off, or at the very least a slight change in tone around training, marketing and load management?

This is as much self-observation as critique.

Marathons attract a very niche kind of human. The kind of person willing to grind through blood, sweat and tears: 42.2km of pounding while downing unpalatable gels that tickle your gag reflex, accumulating blisters that OFs would ban immediately, and acquiring DOMS that cripple your legs for days (or weeks). This person is driven, gritty, ambitious, and has a medium-to-high level of masochism. Which is fine, neither good nor bad.

But having been to four majors this year, eight marathons total, and recently seeing my life flash before my eyes at my latest participation in Valencia, I’m increasingly interested in the fact that the narrative and messaging around training for, and recovering from, these events does not match the profile of the marathoner.

In most industries - retail, e-commerce, beauty, etc - a very intentional client profile is created to centre goods and services around the “typical” or “ideal” market. Yet in running, telling athletes to dig deeper, run further, and get back into training quickly post-race, combined with overtly motivational social media messaging (health lords showcasing their four-hour morning routines that include a 10-mile run and an ice bath because that’s the recipe for success), feels genuinely harmful to the distance-running demographic.

If we profile the average marathoner, they do not need to be pushed. They need less tough love, and maybe even a dose of soft parenting from coaches, trainers, and running apps.

Race-entry marketing also starts almost immediately after you finish. I was sitting in an Airbnb in Spain, hungover after celebrations, muscle soreness up to my eyeballs, emotionally spent from putting so much of my soul into the race and I was met with: here are your down-step race photos where you look like you might have a cardiac arrest at any moment, and would you like to go again next year? Here’s a special early-entry price.

This sent me into a brief spiral, which I quickly dismissed and compartmentalised into: I will contemplate this later when I can pee without using my hands to lower myself onto the seat and I’m not about to board a long-haul flight. And here we are, two weeks “recovered,” with zero plans to lace up for another race, or even jog easy for fun if I’m honest.

I know on a deep physiological level my bones, tendons and even my brain will love the break. As a very wise sports doctor once said to me: “When you think you’re ready to run after a niggle or a major race, give it another 48 hours - and for you, Al, give it a week.”

This man, four Olympics under his belt as a medical director, surrounded by people literally paid to put their bodies on the line could pause, assess the profile in front of him, and recognise that a slightly type-A, keen runner with a tendency to push limits and get injured needed a softer approach. A buffer. I’ve used that same approach with my runner patients ever since, and with myself.

I know for a fact that runners (especially marathoners) are deeply self-critical, hold enormous internal motivation, and do not need to be yelled at or fed inspirational messaging to “send it” multiple times a week, month after month. Anyone willing to get up at 5am, lace up in the dark, and unleash sessions that demand huge physical output probably doesn’t need encouragement to do more, enter more races, or maintain an obscene run streak for a neat Strava graph.

If we play the long game with the sport we love, could a more moderate, conservative approach to training, racing and recovery (though less flashy) actually be the performance enhancement marathoners need? Not just to PB, but to stay unbroken and keep the joy. And could more conscious messaging around goals, mileage and moderation be a less sexy, but more sustainable approach so this wild run boom doesn’t self-implode?

One of the first things I learned as a Physio was the 20% rule. As soon as a runner presents with an injury - whether it’s a walk-jog program, a funky Achilles, an overloaded hip tendon or a bone stress injury - you pre-empt that they will do about 20% more than you prescribe. Treating runners means knowing your client and adapting accordingly.

For many, endurance running is addictive. The hit is the miles and the endorphins. When taken too far (and we’ve all dabbled), the collateral can be being sidelined for a gamut of reasons. Constantly being inundated with emails, socials and trainers asking when’s your next race? what’s your next goal? here’s how to stay disciplined feels tone-deaf to marathoners who will probably tell you about their next race anyway. And if they don’t, maybe ask how their body feels running, or what their favourite route, playlist or location is - questions that tap into why most of us run in the first place: joy, sanity and freedom.

Participation in marathon running has surged and so have injuries, burnout, and messaging around going harder, further and faster. Put simply, I think the sport needs a literal and metaphorical hug. And maybe a few weeks off.

I’m not on Strava. I don’t have a Garmin. Yet I still see runners with sore quads starting up again within 48 hours of a marathon, 160km+ weeks from people who aren’t paid to run and have full-time jobs and families, and race entries treated like Eras Tour tickets. The MORE approach to marathons is rife online, framed as heroic, fed into algorithms, minds and - eventually - lower-limb joints of people who likely started running for health, connection, mental relief and challenge.

Is this just another version of capitalism in run culture disguised as wellness? I’m not sure. But I am sure of this: the four weeks post-marathon are crucial in shaping what the next few months look like physically. Bones have a latency of turn over on a deeper physiological note. Even if you feel fine after a big race, your body is working over time to lay down the bone cells which have had a literal blasting. The four week window is a kew facet for reflection, especially for distance runners. Injury isn’t simply avoided if you finish a marathon relatively unscathed, it’s in the four weeks post event that we encourage vigilance, and discipline to do less to heal fully.

So if you miss your routine, your endorphin hit or the mental chase of a goal, maybe sit with that for a minute. Consider the long-term risk-reward. Whatever you choose to do post-race, do it informed - with research and a heavy dose of respect for what you’ve just demanded from your body during the race and the wild months of training that preceded it.

And if you choose to ignore your body’s call for a break, that’s fine too. But maybe also consider the social responsibility of promoting “go hard or go home” messaging to others - especially if you sit within the health, wellness, performance or coaching space.

I’m not the first to question the mismatch between runner personality and overt run messaging. On Running ran a campaign this year “The Soft Wins Collection” with the line: “Knowing when to go hard, and when to go soft.” It spoke to runners at eye level and captured the real dichotomy of mature training - not less ambition, but better judgement.

That, to me, is the future of the sport. Not a rejection of grit, but a deeper respect for what the body actually needs to sustain it. Knowing when to push, and when restraint is the more intelligent, performance-enhancing choice.

I hope to see this way of thinking elevated across all facets of running - in coaching language, recovery education, race marketing and brand messaging - so that distance runners are met with nuance instead of noise.

Because more often than not, a marathoner doesn’t need to be told to go harder.

They need permission to pause, recover properly, and come back with their body - and joy - intact.

And sometimes, that really does look like a hug… and a week off.