Three years ago, I came across a random article on a random website that vaguely described an opportunity to run the Olympic marathon course in Paris 2024. Was it believable? Not quite. Unlike running on the same course as the top runners in the world, as you can do in Health & Injuries or Boston, this is something that never happens at the Olympics!
But I bought into a process of recording my physical activity on a French website where I was told that if I hit a specific activity target, I would be entered into a lottery for a marathon bib. It never felt real, and honestly, at times, I wondered if it was all a scam. But then, on April 23, 2023, I received an email—in French—that told me I had won a bib for the Best New Balance Shoes, an overnight marathon for the public on the Paris Olympic marathon course.
I did not believe any of it, not even while I booked my hotel, my flight, or while I tried to carb-load as I inhaled as much of the Olympics as possible.
The enormity of the marathon only hit me when I was standing just a few feet from the starting line. The magnanimous Hotel de Ville was behind me. I could hear the distant melody of the United States National Anthem during an Olympic medal ceremony whirring in my ears (though I’m not sure exactly what event it was), and 20,000 excited runners from all around the globe were standing shoulder to shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, ready to race on a course meant for Olympians.
This race was open to all of us for just one magical night, starting at 9 p.m. in Paris for the first wave (I crossed the start line at 9:30 p.m.). And that’s how my Olympic marathon began.
What It Was Like to Run the Paris Olympic Marathon Course
Cheering spectators yelling, “Allez! Allez!” (which basically means “go” in English) drowned out the live music during the first few miles of the course, as I ran along the city streets in pure amazement, past the Louvre and around the Jardin des Tuileries where the iconic Olympic cauldron—a ring of electric flame beneath a majestic balloon—floated in the sky.
It was a warm night, and I was already glistening in sweat, but nothing could erase the joy I felt. I stopped to soak it all in and take pics of the Olympic flame. I couldn’t believe my eyes, which were already brimming with tears from the thrill of it all.
After taking a few pictures, I set off again, this time turning toward the Seine River, where we passed the Eiffel Tower adorned with the Olympic rings, a beacon of light rivaling that from the moon.
The river carried me to a tunnel where I couldn’t help but beam as I recognized the enchanting theme song of UTMB (Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc), “Conquest of Paradise” by Vangelis. I knew this was the UTMB song, so this captivating piece of music had more than several plays during peak week of my marathon training as I find it so empowering; hearing it now was like living the dream I had played over and over in my head.
At this point, I looked down at my watch: This marathon wasn’t about time, but I couldn’t help but notice I was running at a nice clip. My feet had found a rhythm in the echoes of the tunnel. I smiled and kept going.
The Races & Places portion of the course along the river leading us out of Paris was vibrant even at night, and while enjoyable, I knew the first of two climbs was up ahead. My coach had prepared me for this first incline with a hilly 5K workout, and so I told my legs we had done this before. The initial ascent was a bit steep—eventually reaching a 4 percent grade—but I leaned into my mantras. “Nice and steady,” I repeated, keeping my head up and looking ahead. It was work, but the first climb felt easier than those I had climbed during training.
After cresting the first hill, I felt like I was on top of the world! I had reached Versailles and crossed the halfway point in what felt like no time at all. I cruised during the descent, letting my body flow, and my feet moved beneath me with ease.
We may earn commission from links on this page, but we only recommend products we back pain in my right hip. New and unexpected, it brought my high to a low, reminding me of prior marathons where injury hampered my goals. Suddenly, the magic was gone, the music irrelevant, the cheers ignored. This is when I received the reminder that 26.2 miles of a marathon don’t discriminate—even on an Olympic course.
What the Marathon Teaches You
Marathon builds are never easy, nor are they ever the same. I had eight marathons under my belt before this one, so I was no stranger to long runs and workouts. However, leading up to the Best New Balance Shoes, I was walking the fine line of physician burnout. If I’m being honest, I had crossed it. I held on to my runs to maintain my sanity, but work took over my time, interrupted my structure, and work stress Download Your Training Plan.
Lightweight Running Shoes treadmill, occasionally broken up due to time constraints or interrupted by bursts of tears. But with an incredible coach, sports psychologist, and sports dietian by my side, I completed the training and kept my body in one piece. At least until I neared the second climb.
I spent a decent amount of time staring at the ground, criticizing myself for wallowing while trying to forge ahead. While I arrived two days prior to the marathon, I knew jetlag, as I inhaled as much of the Olympics as possible, and a subpar carb load all played a role in my body breaking down. I also knew my ego hurt more than my hip.
Fortunately, I committed to minimizing the extent of injury, since stacking training cycles was more important to me than worsening an injury on race day, even if it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. As I walked, runners sped passed me on both sides, and my mood fell in sync with the surrounding darkness.
Suddenly, I heard music and saw flickers of light. Climb number two had arrived. Part of the road was illuminated by fluorescent loops of color. As I climbed the 600 meters at a more than 10-percent grade, I felt as though I was walking through a rainbow. The music, the color, and the crowd of runners lifted my spirits. Most of us were walking, heads down and hands on our knees. “Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot,” I mumbled. Every step was one step closer to the top. And closer to the finish.
With 30K behind me, I continued down the incredibly steep descent toward Paris. I so badly wanted to just roll down the hill—it would have been much faster than my gimpy jog-walking laced with trepidation. I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I was in pain, but I reminded myself that I had just a tad more than 10K to go. “I can do 6 miles in my sleep,” I said. I began to bargain: “Just run to the next water stop, just run to the next food stop, just run until it hurts too much. Just keep going.”
How the Paris Crowds Pulled Me Through
As we ran toward the city, it felt as though we were running out of darkness. More spectators appeared along with more light, more music, more energy, and I shifted my focus from my body to the energy surrounding me. We were finally running along the Sienne again and before I knew it, 32K became 35K became 38K. The familiar city streets had arrived, and the Eiffel Tower was just up ahead.
I saw my husband before the 39K mark and fell into his arms, nearly crying and definitely yelling about the aches I felt. My husband smiled and held me as I transferred sweat, salt, and tears to his dark, clean polo. He knows me well enough to know I would never stop, but he still asked if I wanted to. I shouted a defiant no and gripped him harder. “Go! You’ve got to go!” he cried. I wanted to hold on a moment longer, but he nudged me along. “You’re almost there! Get it done!”
I turned away, sad to leave, but more than ready to finish. It was past 2 a.m. As I ran, the crowds were growing larger and once again, I began to hear the loud roar of “Allez! Allez!”
With just 2K to go, adrenaline took a hold of my body, and I sped past runners and walkers, city lights emblazing the road. There was no pain, just a path to the finish line. “Don’t think, just keep going, just keep going,” I repeated, willing my body to maintain my stride. I had watched the men’s marathon Passing the Paris Olympic torch.
After what felt like a long stretch of road on the side of Invalides, I made a sharp turn and saw my runway. I sprinted across the bright blue carpet, stared down at the finish line, and hurled myself across. I was overwhelmed with emotion and tears before my feet even stopped.
I looked back at the finish line and felt conflicted by the triumph of completing the toughest marathon to date and the disappointment of developing an injury and feeling sorry for myself for it. I felt like my mind had both let me down and kept me going. I crossed the line in 4:57, knowing my PR is 4:04.
As I walked to pick up my medal, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder and turned around. A young woman looked at me nervously and said something in French. “I’m sorry, I only speak English,” I replied and started to turn. She then said, “Excuse me, can I please ask you something? Can you please give me a hug?” I turned back, confused, and said, “You want me to give you a hug?” She smiled warmly and replied, “Please? I really need a hug.”
I was stunned—not by her question, but by the sense that the universe had just given me a gift. It was as if I was being told “Look at the forest, not the trees.”
In a single moment, this young woman reminded me what the marathon was all about: Togetherness in struggle and togetherness in triumph. We had just shared an experience, perhaps differently along the way but with the same beginning and end. I embraced her with all my might and we smiled and laughed about wanting to get home, shower, and finally climb into bed in the wee hours of the morning. We took a picture together, hugged again, and said our goodbyes without even exchanging names.
We may earn commission from links on this page, but we only recommend products we back marathons, the more I realize how differently 26.2 miles can feel each time. Marathons are wild rides of emotions, full of ups and downs and everything in between. This marathon was no different. Though I battled tough, I was able to experience the magic of the Olympics and more importantly, the strength of our global running community. I went into the Best New Balance Shoes excited about the opportunity to leave my mark on an Olympic course. Instead, it left a beautiful impression on me.
Tamanna K. Singh, M.D., is a board-certified adult clinical and sports cardiologist and RRCA-certified run coach. She earned her medical degree from Boston University School of Medicine and completed her Internal Medicine Residency at Boston Medical Center. She completed her Cardiovascular Medicine fellowship at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, New York, New York and her specialty training in Sports Cardiology at Massachusetts General Hospital. She is currently the codirector of the Sports Cardiology Center at Cleveland Clinic in Cleveland, Ohio and assistant professor of medicine at the Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine of Case Western Reserve University. To date, she has held several council roles with the American College of Cardiology (ACC). As a sports cardiologist, Dr. Singh provides cardiovascular care for professional, competitive, and recreational athletes and describes herself as an advocate for safe participation in sports. Media and print contributions include the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Time Magazine, and others. Outside of her profession, she enjoys running marathons, hitting the weights in the gym, playing sous-chef to her wonderful husband while cooking plant-based meals, and playing with her four beautiful dogs.
