This is how Pheidippides likely fueled during his run, and how I ran the race, too.Įvery few miles in the Spartathlon, there were aid stations overflowing with modern athletic foods, but no figs, olives, pasteli, or cured meat were to be had. Hemerodromoi also consumed handfuls of a small fruit known as hippophae rhamnoides (Sea Buckthorn), thought to enhance endurance and stamina. Policemen were stationed at most of the main intersections to stop vehicles, but after crossing streets we runners had to run on the sidewalks, avoiding stray dogs, trash cans, and meandering pedestrians.Īncient Greek athletes were known to eat figs and other fruits, olives, dried meats, and a particular concoction composed of ground sesame seeds and honey mixed into a paste (now called pasteli). The starting gun went off, and away we went, into the streets crowded with morning traffic. I would finally run alongside my ancient brother, Pheidippides, albeit two and a half millennia in his wake. I’d been waiting a lifetime to be standing in this place. For comparison, many 50-mile ultramarathons have cutoff times of 13 or 14 hours to complete the race in its entirety.Īt the start, I was surrounded by 350 warriors huddled in the predawn mist at the foot of the Acropolis of Athens. Runners must reach an ancient wall at Hellas Can factory, in Corinth-50.33 miles-within nine hours and 30 minutes or face elimination. It is a demanding race with aggressive cutoff times. The distance was much more than a single marathon, more like six marathons stacked one upon the other, some 150 miles.Īt the modern-day Spartathlon, I’d supposedly retrace those steps. But first he ran from Athens to Sparta, to gather Spartan troops to help the Athenians in combat against the Persians. The story that everyone is familiar with is that of Pheidippides running from the battlefield of Marathon to Athens to announce Greek victory, a distance of about 25 miles. I felt a closeness to Pheidippides and I resolved to learn what really took place out there on the hillsides of ancient Greece. Running these long distances was liberating. Training and life became inseparable, one and the same, intimately intertwined. I wanted to go farther, to try 50-mile races even. That night forever altered the course of my life. Years ago, on my 30th birthday, I ran 30 miles, completing a celebratory mile for each one of my unfathomable years of existence. Like Pheidippides, I run long distances-ultra-marathons. Comparatively little is recorded of the mysterious hemerodromoi other than that they covered incredible distances on foot, over rocky and mountainous terrain, forgoing sleep if need be in carrying out their duties as messengers. Much is written about the training and preparation of Olympic athletes, and quite detailed accounts of the early Greek Games exist. What they did was considered beyond competition, more akin to something sacred. Pheidippides was not a citizen athlete, but a hemerodromos: one of the men in the Greek military known as day-long runners. It felt like the right way to tell his story-the actual story of the marathon. Looking for an excuse to visit the country of my ancestors, I signed up for the little-known Spartathlon in 2014, an ultramarathon from Athens to Sparta that roughly follows the path of the real Pheidippides. The whole idea of recreating an ancient voyage was fantastic to me. Turns out, however, the story is bigger than that. And then he promptly collapsed from exhaustion and died. After running about 25 miles to the Acropolis, he burst into the chambers and gallantly hailed his countrymen with “Nike! Nike! Nenikekiam” (“Victory! Victory! Rejoice, we conquer!”). As the well-worn legend goes, after the badly outnumbered Greeks somehow managed to drive back the Persians who had invaded the coastal plain of Marathon, an Athenian messenger named Pheidippides was dispatched from the battlefield to Athens to deliver the news of Greek victory. Rumors of sexual abuse and fits of jealous rage swirl about one family, and it isn't long before the police have a suspect in their sights.Many runners are familiar with the story surrounding the origins of the modern marathon. Within the city, it feels like the Boogey man has dropped by and made himself at home. While law enforcement searches the area in the days to follow, the dismembered body parts and heads of local teen couple Todd Schultz and Annette Cooper are discovered. As the torsos are discovered in the river, terror descends over the Hocking Hills.
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