Every few years, I catch the marathon bug, like some kind of endurance-based Stockholm Syndrome. So this time, I set my sights on the Philadelphia Marathon. It consistently ranks among the top 10 marathons in the country, thanks to its fast, scenic course and enthusiastic, brotherly love-infused crowd support. Plus, let’s be honest, I was also in it for the nerdy American history stuff.

I flew in on Friday to get a couple of full sightseeing days before Sunday’s 26.2-mile joyride. As per usual, I walked way too much pre-marathon, but I decided to let Future Me deal with those consequences.

Sightseeing Speed Run

Friday and Saturday were jam-packed with all the things I planned to do. So, let’s take a deep breath and speed-run the itinerary:


  • Museum of the American Revolution
  • Liberty Bell Center – Overheard by the cracked side: “Is this the Bell’s good side?”
  • Reading Terminal Market (a.k.a. food paradise)
  • Independence Hall
  • National Constitution Center
  • Betsy Ross House
  • Ben Franklin’s Grave
  • Philadelphia Flyers vs. Tampa Bay Lightning (for maximum Philly sports energy)
  • Christmas Winter Market (to feel festive and justify eating more snacks)

City Hall Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell Me and a statue of Ben Franklin NHL action: Flyers vs. Lightning Christmas Market

Phew. Ain’t no rest for the wicked nerdy.

Among all this learning and historic appreciation, I made sure to eat gloriously. There was pizza, there were donuts, there was beer — even a history-themed beer flight! At Yards Brewing, I sipped my way through “Ales of the Revolution,” which featured Thomas Jefferson’s Golden Ale, Poor Richard’s Spruce Ale, and General Washington’s Tavern Porter. You could really taste the Founding Fathers.

Oh yeah, and packet pickup, of course. I splurged on the VIP experience because I felt like treating myself to a heated tent, private bathrooms, and — the main reason — the chance to meet running royalty Desi Linden and Meb Keflezighi!

I was exhausted and settled into an early bedtime to be ready for the race.

Then, at 12:30 a.m., the hotel fire alarm went off. I shot out of bed like I’d just been launched from a Revolutionary War cannon. Over and over, the alarm blared:

Attention, attention. An emergency has been reported in this building. While this report is being verified, please stand by for further instructions. Do not enter the fire exit. Do not use the elevators.

Yes, I came to learn this by heart. Okay… guess I’ll just stay here wide awake until my ears bleed? Thankfully, after about 15 minutes of heart-pounding uncertainty, the alarm stopped, and I flopped back into bed, hoping this would be my only pre-race adrenaline spike.

Race Day: Gonna Fly Now… Slowly

I woke up (this time thanks to my own alarm, not an emergency one) and made my way to the start on Benjamin Franklin Parkway. VIP Village was a warm and glorious tent with a full breakfast spread and a nearby trailer of private bathrooms for us snobs. I stuck with my tried-and-true pre-race bagel with Sunbutter, but… fine, twist my arm, I also grabbed some coffee and a banana.

At 7 a.m., the corrals started moving, though my section didn’t cross the start line for another 25 minutes. The cool, calm weather made me grateful for my last-minute decision to ditch my lightweight hat and gloves. It was going to be perfect weather for an obnoxiously long run. After the national anthem, we were off!

Marathon start

Miles 1–13.1: Historic Streets & Rowdy Frat Boys

The first half of the course took us through Chinatown, Old City, and past all the historical landmarks I had visited the days before. Running by 18th-century row houses and cobblestone streets was surreal — but also a tripping hazard I took very seriously. A mid-race faceplant on colonial bricks? No thanks.

A violinist playing “Gonna Fly Now” near University City gave me an extra pep in my step, as did the rowdy frat boys who had apparently dedicated their morning to hyping up strangers. The ratio of “Gonna Fly Now” to “Eye of the Tiger” was way wider than I expected. The Rocky soundtrack was the clear winner this day.

The crowd support was A+ — I had never heard my name shouted so much in a race. Philly really shows up for its runners. By mile 9, things got interesting with a long, winding hill near the backside of the zoo. No animals came out to cheer us on, but a group of people in animal onesies danced enthusiastically to “Peanut Butter Jelly Time.” Honestly, close enough.

Some bridge near Penn's Landing Spectator signs

Miles 14–26.2: The Long, Sticky Schuylkill Stretch

Crossing back in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art meant we were more than halfway done (woo-hoo!) but also meant a very long out-and-back along the Schuylkill River. Seeing the elites already heading to the finish was both inspiring and, frankly, kind of rude.

Tunnel along the Schuykill River

This stretch of the course served up a mix of gentle rolling hills, scattered pockets of cheering spectators, and scenic, tree-lined riverbanks. Overall, I was still feeling pretty good, and the miles were steadily ticking away.

Manayunk at mile 20 was a full-blown party. Spectators were hyped, music was blasting, and the energy was exactly what I needed to keep moving. This was the turnaround point, and the crowd festively sent us on our way towards the finish. At this point, I saw a sign that said “Piñata ahead,” got excited, and then somehow missed the piñata entirely. ¡Qué lástima! Luckily, not a mile later was a friendly gentleman handing out gummy bears. Truly a saint.

Manayunk frenzy

Speaking of sticky, sugary things, the aid stations became a little more chaotic. Between stomped-on gels, spilled Gatorade, and crushed orange wedges, everything was sticky. It felt like a Looney Tunes glue trap, and I had to carefully navigate my steps to avoid losing a shoe to the pavement.

I took occasional short walk breaks, but I was still feeling pretty good. At mile 25, I passed a sign that read “You’re going to finish the marathon today.” No lies detected. I’d wanted to do this race for a while and was actually doing it! The energy surged, the crowd cheered, and after months of anticipation, I crossed the finish line and claimed my giant Liberty Bell medal! YAY! At first, my bell wasn’t dinging triumphantly like the others, but a quick fix revealed the chain was just kinked. Once I freed it, sweet victory dings rang out.

Post-Race: Chatting with Celebs and a Feeding Frenzy

Back in the VIP tent, I indulged in some much-needed post-race fuel from the buffet, including veggie chili and a comically tiny cup of coffee — seriously, it was like a 5oz child cup but at least they had unlimited refills. Then came the highlight: meeting Desi Linden and Meb Keflezighi! Both were super nice, friendly, and humble. When they asked how my race went, I had a brief existential crisis about what one tells Olympians who run more than twice as fast as you. I came up with some sort of answer, and we all shared a good laugh.

Of course, no Philly race experience is complete without the Rocky Steps. I climbed them — slowly, very slowly — and posed at the top, feeling victorious despite my snail-like ascent on marathon legs.

Me with Desi Linden and Meb Keflezighi Rocky pose at the Museum of Art

After a shower and a nap, the post-race hunger hit like a freight train, and I embarked on an unstoppable food rampage. Tacos? Devoured. Gelato? Gone. Yet, in the immortal words of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, “But [she] was still hungry.” So, naturally, I hunted down a (dairy-free) Philly cheesesteak, grabbed some extra snacks, and washed it all down with celebratory beers. Was it excessive? Maybe. Do I regret a single bite? Absolutely not. Philly, you fed me well — and I’d do it all over again.

Marathon medal against a flight of beer

All in all, Philly was everything I hoped for — history, hype, and a whole lot of fun. My name might not be in the history books, but I ran through America’s past and had a damn good time doing it.

Gonna flyyyyy now… back home.

Parting Thoughts:

  • Saddest moment: Seeing my root beer GU tumble out of my run belt at Mile 0.1. R.I.P. (It’s discontinued, so I’ll mourn forever.)
  • Most questionable aid station: A guy offering cigarettes. With a handwritten sign that just said “CIGS.”
  • Marketing 101: A volunteer at an aid station yelling out gel flavors and turning to his companion to say, “See? You gotta advertise!”
  • Most distracting moment: Almost missing my turn on when walking to a donut shop because I was too busy admiring a Great Dane.
  • Most confusing: Exiting the underground train station near my hotel. I thought I might be trapped in Dunkin’ Donuts purgatory forever.
  • Most dangerous: The Betsy Ross House stairs. If you’re looking to roll an ankle the night before a marathon, this is the place.