Running News Daily

You’re stronger than you think.

When I hear people say, “You can do it!” I’m usually skeptical.

People tend to say that when they have nothing else more encouraging to say. So that kind of positive affirmation — while appreciated — does not exactly provide the substantial and “real” encouragement I’m looking for.

Nowadays, when I find myself lacking in self-confidence, or when I’m feeling like a big failure as a writer because my short stories and essays keep getting rejected by publications, I find myself thinking about that fateful morning in early 2018 — when I first started to get into trail running.

It took me 12 hours to finish my first 25-kilometer mountain race.

For those unfamiliar with trail running, 12 hours is a long, long time to finish 25K. The race’s cut-off time is 8 hours — which is already generous. Yet, I didn’t make it.

Nevertheless, that 12-hour 25K run taught me what real confidence is.

It was the Mount Ugo Marathon, which had qualifying points for UTMB. The UTMB, set in the French Alps, is one of the biggest and most prestigious mountain races in the world. To qualify, a runner has to gather enough points from difficult, qualifying races — like the Mount Ugo Marathon.

The Marathon offered 50K and 25K distances. And since it was my first time, I joined the 25K.

We started at the base of a mountain in Kayapa, Nueva Vizcaya. The first few kilometers were paved roads. Then it turned into dirt roads and eventually trails. Over mountain ranges, it was 10 kilometers of almost vertical uphill.

I’d lift each leg over the other and feel my ankles threaten to rip from the constant battle against gravity. I no longer bothered to look up because the damn mountain just kept going on and on. And I cursed myself for not having more uphill training.

Eventually, we reached a more forgiving part of the trail — flat enough that I could jog it. And I started gaining speed and momentum.

When I hear people say, “You can do it!” I’m usually skeptical. People tend to say that when they have nothing else more encouraging to say.

At the turning point for 25K runners (the 50K runners had a different route), a race official told me I was running 11th. I was excited. I thought if I maintained my pace and outran another runner, I’d be part of the top 10! Not a bad way to finish my first half-marathon.

I reached an intersection that had no marks or ribbons. I was confused. And I kind of assumed trail races would be like roads; you just keep going, and you’ll eventually find the right way because the signs will be so obvious. This is a big mistake because, I would later learn, mountain trails don’t work that way at all!

But I wanted to get that Top 10 so bad that I simply picked a path, hoped it was the right one, and gunned through.

I thought I’d turn back if I didn’t see any markings/ribbons after five minutes of running. But then I saw one! So I kept going.

A few mountains later, the ribbons suddenly stopped appearing. I started getting nervous.

Am I on the right path?

But the ribbon indicated this trail path. There were no intersections so far.

Should I keep going? Maybe there’s another ribbon ahead.

I’d later learn I followed some old markings from the previous year’s race. I guess the race organizers didn’t thoroughly remove all markings in that area since it was supposedly far from the designated route. If only I studied the course map, I’d have known something was wrong. But I didn’t, so I kept running through the previous race’s 50K route.

Back then, I didn’t have a smartphone. I had an old Nokia from my dad; the kind that can only call and text. And the signal was bad. So I had no way of knowing where I was via GPS, and I also couldn’t call someone for help.

I decided to reach the peak of the closest mountain I could find.

Maybe if I can get an overview of the place, I’ll have a better idea of where I am.

I reached the mountain’s summit and stared at a panorama of rice fields and cows. No houses or humans in sight. I knew then that I was very much lost.

At that point, I’d been running for over five hours in the mountains. The sun was high above, painful on the skin. I’d traveled so far from the race route that I’d run out of food and water. I only had one last bottle of Gatorade left. And not a single morsel of food.

The fatigue was growing underneath my muscles. My legs felt like chunks of cement blocks; they felt so heavy I could barely lift them.

I thought of Bear Grylls and whether I had to drink my pee while waiting for rescue.

I took a sip of my dwindling Gatorade and tried to push the panic away; those thoughts attack you when you’re in a vulnerable state. Thoughts that I might end up dying on that mountain of hunger or thirst or wild buffaloes. Or that they’d find me delirious, babbling about cows and rice fields, after days of searching.

 I started walking back, slowly. I climbed one hill after another. Midway up the last hill, I sat on the trail. My legs couldn’t walk anymore. Like, literally. People often say, “I can’t walk anymore” — even if, with enough willpower, they still can. But for the first time, regardless of willpower, I felt that my legs couldn’t take another step. So I sat in the middle of that trail.

My calves cramped for the third time and I screamed in pain.

The pain came along with the panic. Am I going to go Bear Grylls from here?

Freaking Bear Grylls. Why did I have to think of the man in the middle of a crisis?

I focused on my breathing to calm myself. I have to survive. So I rested for a bit. And slowly, while conserving my energy, I made my way back up, one super slow step after another.

When I finally returned to the intersection where I first got lost, some race officials were there. They were sweepers — race marshals who were going through the route to support laggards and slowpokes like me. At that point, more than eight hours had passed. The sweepers pointed me in the right direction. And I limped until I reached the final Aid Station, which was 10 kilometers away from the finish line.

My body had never felt so broken, so tired, so truly and utterly exhausted.

At the aid station, I thought I saw a bunch of angels — helpful, smiling volunteers who fed me fruits and nuts and marshmallows and chocolates. They gave me water and electrolyte drinks. They sprayed my legs with something that helped ease the cramps. It was one of the happiest moments in my life.

After I recovered enough to speak, I said to one of the volunteers:

“I don’t think I can walk the next 10 kilometers. When does the sweeper transport arrive?”

The transport was used to ferry people who could no longer finish the race on their own feet.

“The last transport just left,” the volunteer replied. “Another truck would arrive in four hours to sweep the 50K runners who’ll drop out.”

I took a deep breath. Four more hours. What do I do? Wait?

I’ve already lost the race. Even if I reached the finish line now, I’d still be a non-official finisher. But how do I go home and not feel super bad about the failure of my first 25K? Then a small thought came:

Why don’t I try limping my way down? Maybe the transport will arrive earlier and they’ll be able to pick me up along the way. Or if not, another sweeper will pass me by and help me.

Since the volunteers at the aid station couldn’t leave their posts to assist me, I decided to see how far I could go.

I filled my running vest with food and my bottles with electrolyte drinks. I bid farewell to those angels at the aid station, and then, finally, I dragged my feet and started limping.

I limped my way to the finish line after 12 hours.

I avoided the finish line itself. I was embarrassed to have people see my race bib and know that I was actually from the 25K, not the 50K, and that it took me 12 hours to reach the finish line. But apparently, the race director knew about this lost 25K runner after the sweepers reported it. And he kindly welcomed me and congratulated me for finishing — even if it wasn’t an “official” finish.

I made it back on my own two feet.

And that’s when I realized it: I did it even though I thought and fully believed I couldn’t.

I did it, even when I felt like giving up. I did it, even when I didn’t believe in myself.

So whenever I face something that destroys my self-confidence, I often return to that memory.

When I feel like giving up, or I’m spent and exhausted, and my brain and body are telling me I can’t do it anymore — I push myself to take one more tiny step. Just a little step forward, to see how far I can go.

Because I have done it before and succeeded. And I’m confident I can do it again.

Jakob Ingebrigtsen brought his remarkable 2026 season to a fitting close on home soil, winning the men’s street 1500m at the inaugural Runfest Norway in Sandnes on Friday.

Competing in front of an enthusiastic hometown crowd, the Olympic and world champion took control of the race from the early stages and maintained his authority through the finish, stopping the clock at 3:40.7.

Andreas Fjeld Halvorsen followed in second in 3:43.3, while Sigurd Tveit completed the podium in 3:47.8.

The unusual street race added another dimension to the occasion, with 273 runners taking part on the same road and sharing the course with one of Norway’s most accomplished distance runners. For the recreational participants, it offered a rare opportunity to compete alongside Ingebrigtsen in an event that brought elite athletics and mass participation together.

The victory also provided a fitting final chapter to a season that began with significant uncertainty for Ingebrigtsen. After undergoing major Achilles surgery in February, the Norwegian was forced to miss a substantial portion of the summer campaign as he worked his way back to full fitness.

His return, however, quickly developed into another championship-winning chapter. In Birmingham, Ingebrigtsen captured European 5,000m gold before adding another major title at the inaugural World Athletics Ultimate Championship in Budapest, where he won the 5,000m.

Those performances transformed what could have been a disrupted season into another year defined by championship success and a determined return to the highest level.

Now, with the Sandnes victory added to his 2026 record, Ingebrigtsen closes the year exactly where it began in spirit — overcoming adversity, rebuilding his form and once again competing at the front.

From Achilles surgery in February to major championship victories and finally a 1500m win before his hometown crowd, the Norwegian has given his 2026 season a memorable final scene.

Olympic 100m hurdles champion Masai Russell has announced her engagement to longtime partner Robert “Robbie” Springfield, adding a major personal milestone to the remarkable journey of one of America’s leading track and field stars.

Russell shared the news with her followers, revealing that Springfield had proposed and that she had accepted. Reflecting on their relationship, the Olympic champion described him as her best friend and expressed her excitement about spending the rest of her life with him.

The couple’s relationship dates back to their college years at the University of Kentucky, where both were student-athletes and competed in track and field. Russell established herself as a standout hurdler, while Springfield competed in the long jump, giving them a shared understanding of the demands, sacrifices and pressures that come with pursuing success in athletics.

Springfield has since transitioned from competition into coaching. A former collegiate long jumper, he is now part of the coaching staff at Morehead State University, where he works with the programme’s sprinters and jumpers.

Their relationship has developed alongside Russell’s rise to the top of the sport. The defining moment of her career came at the Paris 2024 Olympic Games, where she captured gold in the women’s 100m hurdles, securing her place among the sport’s Olympic champions.

Away from competition, Springfield has remained a familiar part of Russell’s journey, sharing in the demanding periods of training and competition that accompanied her pursuit of Olympic success. Their connection has consequently grown from a college athletics relationship into a long-term partnership.

The engagement now marks another significant chapter for Russell, this time away from the track. After reaching the pinnacle of her sporting career in Paris, the 100m hurdles champion is beginning a new phase of her personal life alongside a partner who has been part of her journey since their university days.

From competing on the same collegiate stage to building a future together, Russell and Springfield’s story has evolved alongside two careers shaped by track and field. The Olympic champion will now balance this new personal chapter with her continuing ambitions in athletics

The women’s race at the 2026 TCS Amsterdam Marathon is shaping up to be one of the most competitive editions in recent years, with a deep international field set to take on the fast Dutch course on Sunday, October 18.

At the centre of the contest will be four Ethiopian athletes who have already broken the 2:20 barrier, creating the prospect of a fascinating battle for victory and a possible assault on the course record of 2:16:52.

Defending champion Aynalem Desta will return to Amsterdam looking to retain her title after producing the biggest performance of her career at last year’s 50th edition. Desta won in a personal best of 2:17:37, establishing herself among the leading marathoners in the field and setting the benchmark for this year’s contenders.

Standing in her way will be fellow Ethiopian Meseret Belete Tola, a former Amsterdam champion who knows exactly what it takes to succeed on the course. Belete Tola captured the 2023 edition in 2:18:21, and her return adds another layer of experience and proven quality to an already formidable lineup.

The field also includes Mestawut Fikir Truneh, who arrives with an impressive marathon pedigree. Truneh finished runner-up at the 2024 Berlin Marathon in 2:18:48, demonstrating her ability to compete at the highest level on one of the world's major marathon stages.

Completing the quartet of sub-2:20 Ethiopians is Buze Diriba, whose personal best of 2:19:34 places her firmly among the leading contenders. With four athletes possessing credentials below 2:20, the race is likely to develop into a tightly contested battle from the opening kilometres.

The depth extends well beyond the leading quartet. Desi Jisa Mokonin, representing Bahrain, Yeshi Kalayu Chekole of Ethiopia and Nazret Weldu Gebrehiwet of Eritrea have all established themselves as serious marathon competitors with performances approaching the 2:20 mark.

Another major name to watch is Abeba Aregawi, the former 1500m world champion representing Sweden. Aregawi has successfully transferred her talents to the marathon and made headlines earlier this year by setting a Swedish national record of 2:23:12 on her debut. Her presence adds another intriguing dimension to an already high-quality field.

Amsterdam’s marathon course has consistently provided an opportunity for elite athletes to produce fast times, and this year’s women’s lineup has the depth to turn the race into a genuine test of both championship racing and outright speed.

With four athletes already inside 2:20, two former Amsterdam champions returning to the start line and several other accomplished marathoners ready to challenge them, the battle is expected to remain open deep into the race.

The ultimate target will be the Amsterdam women’s course record of 2:16:52. Whether the leading contenders can threaten that mark remains to be seen, but the quality assembled for October 18 ensures that the record will be firmly in the spotlight when the race reaches its spectacular finish inside the Olympic Stadium.

The 2026 Valencia Half Marathon is shaping up to be a thrilling contest of speed, endurance and tactical brilliance, with some of the world’s finest road runners set to converge in Spain on October 25.

Kenya’s Daniel Ebenyo and Alex Matata will be among the leading contenders, facing a formidable Ethiopian challenge spearheaded by Jemal Yimer and Tadese Worku. The field also features Rodrigue Kwizera, who boasts the fastest personal best among the leading entrants at 58:16.

Ebenyo arrives with a personal best of 59:04, placing him firmly among the athletes capable of sustaining a demanding pace over the 21.1-kilometre distance. Matata, who owns a 59:11 best, adds further Kenyan strength, while Andrea Kiptoo brings another sub-60-minute credential to the race.

Yimer has already established himself as one of the fastest athletes in the field with a 58:33 personal best, while Worku has clocked 58:35. Kenya’s Owen Korir, with a best of 58:58, further underlines the remarkable depth of the men's lineup.

Valencia Half Marathon 2026 Entries

1. Rodrigue Kwizera (Spain) — 58:16

2. Jemal Yimer (Ethiopia) — 58:33

3. Tadese Worku (Ethiopia) — 58:35

4. Owen Korir (Kenya) — 58:58

5. Daniel Ebenyo (Kenya) — 59:04

6. Alex Matata (Kenya) — 59:11

7. Andrea Kiptoo (Kenya) — 59:11

8. Thierry Ndikumwenayo (Spain) — 59:42

9. Said Mechaal (Spain) — 1:00:24

10. Adel Mechaal (Spain) — 1:02:30

Kwizera, who finished second in Valencia last year, leads the field on paper and will be seeking another standout performance on the famously fast Valencia course. With several athletes carrying sub-60-minute credentials, the race has the ingredients for an aggressive battle from the opening kilometres.

Beyond the headline names, the men’s field is deep and highly competitive, bringing together a strong collection of experienced international athletes with proven ability over the half-marathon distance. With so much quality packed into the lineup, the race promises an intriguing battle in which tactics, endurance, positioning and finishing speed could all play a crucial role in determining the eventual champion.

Yet personal bests will count for little once the gun goes off. The title could ultimately be decided by patience, positioning and the ability to respond when the pace begins to rise in the closing stages. Every surge, every tactical move and every second saved could prove decisive on the road to the finish.

With Kenya, Ethiopia and Spain represented by athletes of exceptional quality, Valencia promises a high-octane men's showdown in which the leaders are likely to be separated by only a handful of seconds. The final kilometres could provide the defining moments of a race packed with speed, ambition and anticipation.

On October 25, the question will be simple: who has the strength to command the streets of Valencia and claim the coveted half-marathon crown?

 

April 19, 1982. The Boston Marathon unfolded under unusually warm, sunny conditions, and by the closing stages, the race had become a private battle between two very different American runners: Alberto Salazar, already one of the biggest names in distance running, and Dick Beardsley, the Minnesota runner who had emerged as a serious marathon contender.

For roughly nine miles, from the Newton Hills toward the finish, Beardsley did much of the leading, with Salazar tucked close behind. Neither man could shake the other. They ran deep into Boston locked together, trading surges and refusing to surrender an inch as the crowds along the course grew louder.

Salazar finally made his decisive move with less than a mile remaining. He opened a small gap, but Beardsley refused to disappear. The Minnesota runner chased him through the final streets, closing again as they approached the finish.

Then came the final sprint.

Salazar held his form and reached the finish first in 2:08:52, with Beardsley only two seconds behind in 2:08:54. It was an extraordinary result: both men broke 2:09 in the same Boston Marathon, and both shattered the previous course record.

The race became known as the “Duel in the Sun,” and it remains one of the most celebrated head-to-head battles in Boston Marathon history. Beardsley had not won, but his performance established him as one of America's elite marathoners.

For Salazar, however, victory came at an enormous physical cost. Immediately after crossing the finish line, he collapsed and required emergency treatment, including several litres of intravenous saline. The combination of heat, dehydration and an all-out effort had pushed his body to the limit.

Salazar's marathon career would never again produce quite the same kind of performance. His celebrated 1981 New York City Marathon victory had produced what was initially considered a world record, although the course was later found to be short. His Boston triumph therefore became one of the defining victories of his career.

Beardsley's story would take an even more difficult turn. Injuries disrupted his career, and after returning to the highest level, he suffered a devastating farm accident in 1989. Further accidents, surgeries and severe physical pain followed, eventually leading to a long battle with painkiller addiction.

He eventually overcame that struggle and transformed the darkest chapters of his life into a story of recovery, resilience and redemption.

That is what makes the 1982 Boston Marathon more than a two-second victory.

For one extraordinary afternoon, Salazar and Beardsley produced a marathon duel in which neither man was willing to give way. One crossed the finish line first. The other finished only two seconds behind him.

Two seconds separated them at Boston. Decades later, their legendary duel remains one of the greatest chapters in marathon history.