This morning, I woke up early to watch the London Marathon. I almost went back to bed after my 4am alarm, but I decided to at least see if I could find decent coverage online – I did – and by that point, I was up.

For those who haven’t seen the results (spoiler alert) world record holder Wilson Kipsang of Kenya won in a negative-split time of 2’04’29 (1’02’30 at halfway). There had been talk of this being the greatest field ever assembled (it may have been), with the possibility of a WR attempt and multiple sub-2’04 finishers. What we ended up with was an extremely impressive pair of men (Kipsang and Biwott, both of Kenya) who seemed to cruise into a new course record, while the rest of the field struggled mightily over the last third of the race.

Lots of coverage will probably go into detail about how the racers were doomed after an insane first 5km in 14’21, so I’m going to skip that.

What struck me was something Jon said when I asked him if he’d watched the race.

“I’m not sure what to conclude, but I’m fairly amazed that a small number of runners always seem to be able to run the final 12-15k incredibly fast, as though the first two-thirds of the race didn’t take ANYTHING out of them, while everyone else hurts badly, almost no matter what.”

It’s true. Somehow, there always seems to be that one guy (or today, pair of guys) who is just invincible to the strain of running 20 miles at 4’45 pace. And the problem is one of selection bias: we get shown these miraculous victors on TV broadcasts and watch them glide through the last 10km like it’s nothing. Meanwhile, the rest of the 8 or 10 elites who were truly in contention are flying out the back end and having, what I assume to be, a truly miserable day.

In recent April and Octobers – the heart of Marathon season – I’ve gotten this urge to go out there and tackle the 26.2 mile distance. But now, I feel like I’ve been brainwashed. Watching Haile Gebresellassie beaming his big smile across the finishing line or watching Kipsang float 4’40 pace and raise his hands and break the tape had beautified the event in my mind, in the same way that Barbie distorts little girls’ images about perfection. For those who have non-miracle days – which is pretty much everyone – it’s a lot less pretty.

And so, I’m glad I got up this morning because it reminded me that, while there may be a few Kipsangs up front, for most people, it’s not beautiful, it’s not comfortable, and (for everyone) it’s not easy. They just make it look that way.