Running the LA Marathon in This Time of Coronavirus – runnersworld.com

A marathon is so physically grueling that the first person who covered the distance died. For the average person, running 26.2 miles means four and a half hours of nonstop physical activity—a feat that, for many, means leaving everything (except, hopefully, their lives) on the line.

That crawl-across-the-finish-line mentality that comes with running a marathon feels a little different right now, with the rapidly evolving situation around the spreading coronavirus.

On March 8, I ran the Los Angeles Marathon. This was my back-up race; I was supposed to run the Tokyo Marathon a week earlier, but the mass participation race was canceled due to a surge in coronavirus cases in the city. Switching to the L.A. Marathon meant I wouldn’t lose any of my training. But by the time I toed the start line, the virus had spread across the globe; there were at least 11 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in Los Angeles and one fatality in California.

Typically, the week before a marathon I focus on healthy eating, hydrating, logging my final training miles, and getting plenty of rest. This time, I spent the week focused on anxiety-inducing questions: How bummed am I about Tokyo? (Pretty bummed.) Will I run it next year? (Absolutely.) Do I think L.A. will be canceled? (I had no idea.) Am I worried about flying? (Not really.) Do I think people will still come out and cheer for the runners? (I hope so!)

The leadup was so stressful that I found myself in urgent care the day before leaving for California with a cough and congestion, worried that I had somehow come down with coronavirus myself. (After a three-and-a-half-hour wait, my doctor assured me I was coronavirus-free and just had a cold. If my doctor had told me not to run, I would have listened.)

The fear has been pervasive. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about lining up with 27,000 runners from 78 different countries (although entries were deferred for runners traveling from China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Italy, South Korea and Iran), about running myself into the ground for the sake of PR in a county where the governor recently declared a state of emergency.

I know that those most at risk for coronavirus are much older than me or have chronic medical conditions, but there’s an inherent risk in pushing your body to its limits in a virus-plagued area. Marathon runners are six times more likely to get a respiratory infection than people who don’t race, one scientific review found; prolonged, high-intensity activity temporarily overtaxes your immune system, putting you at risk for infections.

But once I actually started running, the fears of coronavirus were left behind. I was nervous for my health—not because I worried about getting sick, but because I already was sick, and my body felt terrible. No one was running in face masks, and the idea of staying six feet from other runners didn’t cross my mind (I wasn’t coughing all over anyone or dodging spit and snot rockets; I was just trying to get from point A to point B without breaking down). I didn’t take the orange slices and other snacks handed out by well-intentioned spectators, but I’ve never done that in the past. And I still hugged my dad at the finish line.

I understand why the organizers of the Paris Half Marathon canceled the race and why the NYC Half Marathon was canceled, too. The Paris Marathon was postponed from April to October, and the Seoul Marathon, the Great Wall Marathon, and the Rome Marathon have all been canceled. There are even rumors the Boston Marathon may be affected. If coronavirus spreads in crowds, what kind of gathering could be more dangerous than one that brings together people from all over the world who are willing to compromise their immune systems together?

I don’t know why the L.A. Marathon proceeded as planned. Would I run it this weekend, following the uptick in coronavirus cases? I don’t know, and I’m glad I didn’t have to make that choice. I didn’t want to waste five months of training, which is why I was determined to run L.A. as long as it was still being held. But I also get that while I may not be at risk, people around me could be. And if the race had been canceled, as disappointing as that would be, I would have understood that it’s for the greater good.

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At the same time, I don’t want to let this fear run my life. If the spread of coronavirus is inevitable, at what point do you become homebound? When does it become rational to stockpile hand sanitizers and face masks, toilet paper and bottled water, and completely disengage with the world?

In a time where things feel increasingly out of control, running and training is one area of my life of which I feel in control. I have to believe you can be safe and cautious without giving up on the things that are important to you. So I will keep running, even if races are canceled. And when things go back to normal, I’ll keep racing, too.

Ashley Mateo is a writer, editor, and UESCA-certified running coach who has contributed to Runner’s World, Bicycling, Women’s Health, Health, Shape, Self, and more.