Around mile 10 of the Every Woman’s Marathon (EWM) in Savannah, Georgia, my focus shifted dramatically. Instead of concentrating on my race pace, I found myself racing toward the nearest porta potty. And then the next one. It seemed like an unfortunate repeat of my last two marathons where, for reasons unknown, my stomach decided it was time for a revolt.
But here’s the twist: rather than stressing about my pace, I decided to adopt a “party pace.” I slapped high-fives with kids lining the route, danced a little at a neighborhood DJ station, and, in a moment of spontaneity (and perhaps some misguided rationale that carbonation could work wonders for my upset stomach), I even downed a shot of beer in the final stretch. Why not, right?
What transformed my experience this time was the luxurious time allowance of 7 hours and 45 minutes to finish the race. It was liberating to know that even a leisurely walk would allow me to cross that finish line adorned with a shiny medal. That’s a sweet deal compared to most marathons where the race wraps up after about six hours. Imagine the stress: feeling like you have to hustle just to avoid being coerced off the course into a waiting bus, as aid stations start packing up, leaving you high and dry.
Giving runners a generous time frame to finish doesn’t just benefit those in the back of the pack; it significantly shifts the atmosphere of the entire course. There’s a palpable sense of camaraderie and joy when many participants feel they have a fair shot at finishing, regardless of their pace. This infectious energy uplifts not only the slower runners but the faster ones too, creating a memorable experience.
At EWM, it was clear I wasn’t alone in relishing the extended cutoff time; fellow runners were vibing just as much. After the race, I struck up conversations to gauge whether others felt this uplifting change.
Leslie Robbins from Cleveland shared her reflections on the race: “I felt truly accepted and embraced for where my physical abilities were at—that was powerful.” For many, the extended time limit made the race more than just a competition; it became a shared celebration of endurance and spirit.
Stacy Smith, a runner from Michigan, echoed these sentiments. “I hesitated to sign up for a full marathon in the past because I feared I couldn’t meet the time limit. But with 7 hours and 45 minutes at EWM, it felt doable.” In fact, over 40% of the participants were running their very first marathon.
Stacy recounted how previous half marathons left her feeling anxious with every mile, worrying about being picked up by the “sad wagon” that scoops up slower runners. Even when she crossed the finish line with time to spare, the festival vibe was often nonexistent. “It’s a lonely feeling,” she admitted, and I couldn’t help but relate. That sense of isolation can cast a shadow over what should be an exhilarating achievement.
Sarah Deyerle, an ultrarunner from Charleston, South Carolina, agreed. “It makes you feel kind of uncared for,” she said, recalling her experiences in races where participants barely have a semblance of a celebration waiting for them at the finish line. After a decade of running, she has begun to appreciate trail races, where the pressure of strict cutoffs is eased. “There are enough challenges to overcome,” she said, “it’s refreshing to remove the added stress.”
While some runners found themselves rerouted due to slower paces at EWM, it’s worth noting that not all races operate under the same constraints. Take Mainly Marathons, a series that offers multi-day events and distances ranging from 5K to 50K, allowing ample time for participants to complete their runs. Co-race director Daniel Rueckert explained that the founder, Clint Burleson, started this series to create an accessible, low-pressure atmosphere as he faced challenges with his own pace.
Rueckert spoke affectionately about the community vibe at their events: “Everyone is just cheering each other on, regardless of personal goals. It’s less about racing each other and more about lifting one another up.”
This relaxed atmosphere is akin to the local Turkey Trots where people from all walks of life convene to celebrate and move together, whether they’re aiming for personal bests or just reveling in the joy of being active outdoors.
Of course, it’s essential to understand why many races set strict time limits. Keeping parts of a city closed off for extended periods poses logistical challenges and financial constraints. As Miranda Abney, vice president of consumer marketing at MilkPEP (the event organizer), shared, they initially sought an 8-hour window but negotiated down to 7 hours and 45 minutes after discussions with city officials.
Maintaining safety on the course requires significant resources, and longer events demand more personnel, increasing overall race costs. Rueckert noted that the costs increase if race organizers have to pay for extended police and medical support, which can ultimately lead to higher registration fees for participants.
However, the tradeoff is monumental. The longer the timelines are, the more accessible races become for a wider range of runners. This expansion of inclusivity allows more people to see themselves as capable of achieving their marathon dreams. Manna Jones, a New York City-based runner focusing on diversity, equity, and inclusion, highlighted this perfectly: “People start to think, ‘I can do this. It’s a place where I belong.’”
Finding joy in the shared experience of running is invaluable, especially when we can lean into a little fun and celebration. Because at the end of the day, running isn’t just about finishing fast—it’s about crossing that line together, high-fiving the friends made along the way, and creating memories that live long after the race is over.
