Running my First, Virtual, Marine Corp Marathon with David Goggins

It all started at the northernmost tip of Sandy Hook. 08:30 was the start. I love Sandy Hook. It is one of the most underrated parts of…

It all started at the northernmost tip of Sandy Hook. 08:30 was the start. I love Sandy Hook. It is one of the most underrated parts of the Jersey Shore. My very first memory of Sandy Hook was when my 2nd-grade class went on a field trip there. We learned about marine life along the coast, and I remember I thought it was the coolest thing. I loved it when they showed us the horseshoe crabs. They’re gnarly creatures. Every time I see a horseshoe crab, I think back to that trip, and I think back to Sandy Hook. But now, Sandy Hook has a new meaning. It is now the starting line of my very first marathon.

Back at the beginning of the pandemic, I started running. Gyms were closed, so I figured it would be a good time to check “marathon” off my to-do list. I came up with a plan and started running.

As my training progressed and my mileage went up, I looked for a half marathon to sign up for. There was nothing. At that point, everyone was so terrified of COVID-19 that all large events were closed. So, I plotted my own half-marathon route and got after it. My goal was to finish in under 2 hours. I achieved that goal.

Once I had the half under my belt, I was ready to tackle the full. I modified my training and signed up for the 45th annual Marine Corp Marathon. When I had signed up, the Marine Corp Marathon was still scheduled to be in-person. All the other large marathons — New York City, Boston, etc. — had all canceled their in-person marathons, so I kind of anticipated that the Marine Corps Marathon would follow. I was right.

When all of the Marine Corp Marathon runners heard the event was going to be virtual, a lot dropped out. Why do a marathon if it’s virtual? I thought the same thing, but I wasn’t going to let months of training go to waste. “It’s my time to do it right now. If nobody else is going to do it, who will?” I thought.

The months leading up to the marathon were tough. I did lots of running. Lots of it. More than I ever had in my life. Every time I would go out on a long run, all I could think about was being back in a CrossFit gym. “Why am I doing this? Why wouldn’t I wait to do an in-person marathon? What’s the point?” were thoughts that constantly plagued me. All I could think about was quitting and postponing the marathon to another point in my life. “It’d be so much better to do it later. People surround me. I won’t have to organize the route, water, and bathroom breaks. Don’t stress about it now. Just forget it and do it next year or the year after that.”

Well, I’m glad I didn’t quit, and I am already dreaming about the day that I get to run my second marathon — this one in person.

Training was hard and long. There were hot days. There were cold days. There were days where I didn’t bring enough water. There were days when my muscles were sore. But I persevered. I was on a mission to get it done.

I stepped out of my Dad’s F-150 into the crisp, breezy, and salty Jersey Shore air. My Brooks were laced, my winter hat was fit snuggly around my head, and my dri-fit long sleeve shirt clung to my body. I peeled off my sweatpants, exposing my chicken legs to frigid air — okay, I don’t actually have chicken legs. However, compared to what they used to look like before beginning marathon training, they sure do look small, and my brother made sure to let me how much muscle mass I lost in my legs throughout my training.

Mom and Dad exited the car — of course, we needed to take a picture at the starting line. I posed in front of the Coast Guard sign, and Mom flicked a couple of pictures — portrait mode, of course. If you aren’t using portrait mode for your pictures, I don’t know what you are doing. It makes you look like a professional photographer. This picture, unfortunately, is not in portrait mode.

Dad brought his bike. He planned to ride the first 5 miles with me but then ended up riding the whole way. I couldn’t have done it without him, and I am honored he’s my father. He kept me company and pushed me when it got tough. In the beginning, we joked that we were going to solve world hunger or some shit while on this run. Sadly, we didn’t solve world hunger, but we did have an amazing time.

The first five miles were slow. The wind whipped across Sandy Hook and made it difficult to maintain a consistent pace. It was so windy there were kite surfers out. The Sandy Hook scenery was awesome.

The next ten miles was when I picked it up. I fled Sandy Hook, and paced through Sea Bright, Monmouth Beach, and entered Long Branch. Wherever there was a boardwalk, I tried to run on it. Everything was going well until Dad and I found out we were running along a private board walk in Sea Bright — it was also not the ideal place to be riding a bike. We hopped back on the road as soon as we could. Miles 6–15 were when I settled into my target pace, and I felt great — a little too great, I think. In the first half of the marathon, I only drank around 8 ounces of water—a big mistake.

Every few miles, we’d see Mom cheering, taking videos, and waving signs. It was amazing and brought me to tears. I love her for being there for me to cheer me on. I couldn’t have done it without her.

Miles 16–20 were solid as well. Dad and I passed through Long Branch and entered Asbury Park. Throughout the whole race, my mind was set on Asbury Park. I spent the majority of my summer training in Asbury Park. I’d begin at Rachael’s place on 7th avenue, run to the boardwalk, and head south towards Belmar. One of my favorites runs while training was when I ran all the way to the end of the Spring Lake boardwalk and back — I think it was around 15 miles. Miles 16–20 meant a lot to me. The most I had run in my training was 17 miles, so I felt amazing after passing that. Mile 20 was also when I started to run out of water. Luckily, Mom ran to the store and grabbed a few extra. There was a point when Dad went back to grab some water from Mom, and I was running alone. I ran through the Asbury Park convention center, down the Asbury Park boardwalk, and entered Ocean Grove. I started to feel some cramping in my legs, and I knew I needed water soon, or it would be bad news.

“So, I hear you’re running a marathon,” a voice from behind me said. My head shot back, nearly giving myself whiplash. It was a man on a bicycle with a Marine Corp flag attached to the back of his bike — what are the odds.

“Yessir, I am. I’m running the Marine Corp Marathon — virtually.” At that moment, my legs felt light. The cramping subsided. It was me, the man, and 6.2 miles to go.

“My name is Steve. You got it brotha. Just keep going, brotha,” he chirped at me. “I’ve run my fair share of marathons throughout my life. That was until I tore both of the meniscuses in my knees. Then, I slowed down. But I am ready to get back after it soon once this pandemic is over.”

“What marathons have you ran?” If this guy can run five marathons, tear both his meniscuses, and still have the drive to get back out there and run another one, I can finish this one. There was never a time when I didn’t think I would finish the marathon until the cramping worsened.

I trotted along the Bradley Beach boardwalk, and I could feel my legs get heavy. With each stride, I felt the imminent cramping. I felt it in my quads and my hamstrings. I felt it in my arms. The difference was that I could shake out the cramps in my arms. My legs were done.

Each step, I grimaced. “I’m starting to feel cramping. What should I do?” I knew it was coming. I prayed to God that Steve had some guidance for me. Five marathons, he surely knows how to prevent cramping.

“Just don’t think about it brotha. You can’t think about it. Get your mind off of it. If you think about it, you are going to cramp. Keep going brotha. Just keep going brotha.” I lifted my head and kept trudging along.

“Just don’t think about it,” I said under my breath. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. Deep inhale in, slowly exhale out. I repeated the breathing over and over and over again, but it didn’t help my legs. Stride after stride, my legs got tighter and tighter. There was no avoiding it. Then it happened.

“Ahhh!” I dropped to the boardwalk, screaming in pain. I felt like I had gotten shot. My hamstring balled up and shot pain up and down my body. I bent my leg backward, trying to mask the pain, only to be greeted by another cramp in my thigh. “JESUS!” I wailed. I straightened my leg again, and the cramp funneled back into my hamstring. There was no making it better. No matter how I configured my leg, there was pain. It wasn’t fun.

“What do you need? Gu? Water? Gatorade? Advil? Beans? What do you need?” I looked up, and there were two girls there to save the day. Thank God.

“I’m running the Marine Corp Marathon right now. It’s my first marathon, and my legs are cramping like crazy. What should I take?” I was in a tough spot. I knew I was going to finish the race, but these cramps were awful. I needed something.

“Take it all brotha. You need it brotha.”

“We’re running the NYC Marathon right now! We are at the 23-mile mark right now. Here.” One of the girls dumped 2 Advil into my hand. The other gave me a packet of beans. “You got this. Just keep on going. Keep on keeping on.”

“Thank you so much, guys. I appreciate it.” Looking back, I’m not sure if I even said thank you. I was so in the moment; I may have forgotten. I was so grateful that they had happened to be where they were at that moment when I cramped up. It was impeccable timing. I wish I would have gotten their Instagrams or phone numbers so I could say thank you.

I popped the Advil, munched on the beans, and kept going. I cruised through the remainder of Avon and hustled over the bridge to Belmar. 1st avenue, 2nd avenue, 3rd avenue… I kept going.

I was about halfway through Belmar when Luke, Ryan, and Jess showed up. They sped past me in Luke’s white Acura, honking like crazy and cheering me on. They set up shop around 13th avenue and waited for me to catch up. 11th avenue, 12th avenue, 13th avenue. I could see signs waving in the distance — those damn signs again. I got closer and closer. Everyone — Mom, Luke, Ryan, and Jess — had their iPhones out and were taking pictures and videos. Luke shoved his iPhone in my face, “how many you got left?”

“3 more!” I shouted. I passed my fan club, and everyone returned to their cars to meet me at the end.

“Austin, why are you running this marathon?” Steve asked me. Honestly, I wasn’t really sure how to answer that. Running a marathon has always been on my bucket list. I really didn’t have a deeper meaning or anything.

“Because I just got to it get it done.” There was nothing else to it. I just needed to get it off my bucket list.

“That’s right. You’re doing it because nobody else is going to do it. It’s all you brotha. You got it brotha. Do you know David Goggins?” Steve asked.

“I love David Goggins. Dude is the most inspirational man I know,” I replied.

“Who’s gonna carry the boats, Austin? Who’s gonna carry the boats?” Steve said with a smirk. For the rest of the marathon, we quoted David Goggins. We made it to the end of Belmar and entered Spring Lake. I’m getting close.

We cruised through Spring Lake.

“Semper Fi!”

“Oooh, Rah!”

“Carpe Diem!”

For the time Steve was with me, we heard all of the notorious Marine Corp chants. It was motivating. It reminded me of what the Marine Corp Marathon would have been, had it been in person.

My finishing time was 4 hours, 7 minutes, and 36 seconds with my family and friends at the finish line.

My goal was to run sub-four. I was a little bummed I didn’t hit my time goal, but that’s what next time is for! I cannot wait to run an in-person marathon. Even though I didn’t achieve my goal, I learned a lot about myself. Some of the main lessons I learned are…

1. The end is great, but the journey is the most memorable— The last 6 miles were the hardest. Oftentimes in life, the final portion of a task — to get it over the finish line — takes the longest. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. It was all mental from miles 20–26.2. After crossing the finish line, I was happy I finished, but that’s about it. When I look back on my marathon, I will remember the hours and hours I spent training, not the moment I crossed the finish line.

2. Surround yourself with those you aspire to be — Throughout my life, I’ve read books about successful authors, entrepreneurs, business people, and athletes. I studied their habits, their goals, and their priorities. They molded my thinking and priorities. I started setting super ambitious goals — get into an Ivy League school, become a millionaire by the age of 25, run a marathon (check), but the list goes on and on. Surround yourself with people who inspire you to be your best and push yourself to achieve the unimaginable. You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with — I truly believe this. These people can be in-person. They can be a book; they can be a podcast; honestly, they can be wherever you want them to be.

3. Plans change — If you know me, you know I am a planner. For those who don’t, I am the one who knows their 1, 3, and 5 and 10-year plans like the back of their hand (not really). I’ve always super ambitious goals. I wanted to get into an Ivy League school senior year of high school — that didn’t happen. Freshman year of college, I wanted a 4.0 GPA — that didn’t happen. Sophomore year, I wanted to be a millionaire startup founder — that didn’t happen. Junior year, I wanted an internship with my dream company — that didn’t happen. Senior year, I wanted to graduate college and celebrate with my family and friends (just how we all envisioned) — that didn’t happen. The bottom line is that plans change. You can plan all you want, but you won’t know what will happen until it happens. Going into the marathon, I had a detailed plan about how I was going to run it — run 5 miles, run 10 rounds of 5:00 on 1:00off, run 2–3 miles, run 10 rounds of 5:00 on 1:00 off, then finish it out with 5–6 miles. Well, I didn’t do that. I ran a straight 26.2, which looking back on, sounds freaking crazy.