by Paul Semendinger
February 2025
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NOTE - This is not about baseball, but many have taken an interest in my running "career" so I'll share this here.
This article can also be found at www.drpaulsem.com
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The decision was one that had been coming for a long time, years, in fact.
I knew that being a marathoner wasn’t going to last forever. It had to end sometime. I also wanted it to end on my terms and in a special way, a great way.
And, although it feels a little strange to finally be at this point, I know it was (and is) the right decision.
It had to end sometime.
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When I woke up on the morning of January 12 to run the Walt Disney World Marathon, the last leg of the Dopey Challenge, I knew that marathon was going to be my last.
As I went through each of the motions that day: getting ready in my hotel room, boarding the shuttle bus, walking to the corral, and standing at the start, I knew these were the final times I’d be doing these things prior to running a marathon.
When the race started, I thought, “I have only 26.2 miles to go.” As I ran, I counted down each of the miles. I did this with every mile of the race, all the way to the final one.
And when I finished, I knew it was all over. I texted my wife and sons with a simple message, “And that is that.”
While there is a certain sadness when good things come to an end, I was also relieved. It was a great way to end it all, by succeeding in the biggest four-day running event of my life – by overcoming a running challenge I had been looking forward to for many years.
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I have been running marathons since 2002. For just about a quarter of a century, I trained hard, seriously, and continually. I pushed my body further than I ever thought it could go. In a very real sense, I have been in training mode for decades. And while I am strong, and able, my no-longer-young body is tired. I am ready to give myself a little break.
Overall, I ran 27 marathons including eleven New York City Marathons. I did three Walt Disney World Marathons. I ran Chicago, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Hartford, and Marine Corps – among many others. I ran big races and small ones.
And it was great.
But, as great as it was, running 26.2 mile races is something I no longer need to do. I did it. A lot. I went the distance. Time and again.
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7)
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I have always believed in pushing my body to do things I never thought possible. And I am not someone who backs down from challenges. I still believe that I can do anything I set my mind to. And will. Marathons just won’t be part of that any longer.
I worked hard to be a marathoner, but I also believe in being smart. Discretion is the better part of valor. I know that I have pushed my body as a long-distance runner just about as far as it can go. In subtle ways, my body has been telling me that it no longer needs to be punished, through long months of training, and in the races themselves, any longer. I’m leaving the sport feeling very well physically. My hips, my knees, my feet, and more – they all feel great. I want to stay this way.
There comes a point where it is not worth it to try to go one more race, and then one more after that, and another – in an endless cycle of running big races that cannot be stopped. Marathoners are compulsive people. We always look to the next race. And eventually the race wins. The 26.2 mile distance almost always wins in the end. I’m not going to let the race or the training break me down physically. (I think it was about to.)
I accomplished tons more in this sport than I ever imagined or even thought possible.
Completing the Dopey Challenge – four races over four days (a 5k, followed by a 10k, followed by a half-marathon, and then a full marathon – 48.6 miles in all) was a great way for me to cap off my decades of being a marathoner runner.
It’s called the Dopey Challenge because it is a bit crazy to do.
But the way I did it, as a capstone, I think, was quite smart.
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It does feel very strange to not have a big race to be looking ahead to.
When I now run, I don’t quite know what I’m running for. For more than two decades every single run had a purpose in my mind. Each run helped get me to the starting line a little stronger. I was always working for that, focusing on the challenge of the next big race. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t think about the marathon. There wasn’t a day when I wasn’t training physically and mentally for that next race – even if it was months or even a year away.
This will take some getting used to…
I will still run. I hope to always run.
I want to always be able to run and be active with my sons – and one day soon with my grandchildren. I just won’t be running marathons with them. I look forward to cheering them as they come to experience big races and small one and maybe a few marathons of their own.
Through it all, I will still be running, and smiling, and remembering, and cherishing, all this sport gave me. And all that I gave to it.
I loved being a marathoner.
It was a great (long) run.
