Aaron Sorkin Is Helping Me Train for a Marathon

History was made at the 2026 London Marathon. Sabastian Sawe ran the first sub 2-hour marathon, a feat long thought to be impossible. I was at work, thinking of my own ongoing marathon training, and fell into the compelling Atlantic article, "Is It The Shoes?"

I'm not sure where I even got the quote from, but I often reference it: "hard work doesn't always equal success, but I've also never personally met anyone successful that didn't work hard." There's something about the very human desire for progress, success, and determination. Sawe ran Valencia and Berlin in 2024 and 2025, completing both just over two hours. His 2025 London Marathon completion time was 2:02:05.

To me, the most thought-provoking part of Sawe's win was the media describing his first half of the marathon as a "slow" 60:29. The second half was 59:01. 

In my mind, this alone solidifies the answer: no, it's not the shoes. "Slow" and steady wins the race. 

A good pair of shoes will carry you over the finish line but the engineering of Sawe's success has far more to do with grit than rubber. 

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Grit. The skill of life.

Everyone says you start running in your late 20s, and it's proving to be true. My marathon training started three weeks ago, with a little mental meltdown, and Casey Neistat. 

I was a cross country runner in high-school, and while I almost always stopped to walk at some point during our frequent 5Ks, I always prided myself on never throwing up. On the track, that is. For over a decade I'd struggled with bulimia and even after college, developed female triad athlete syndrome. I couldn't wrap my mind around the simple fact that food is fuel, bloating is normal, and healthy weight loss doesn't mean starvation.

After years of therapy and recovery I'd figured I'd solved my issue with food but as I grow into my late 20s, there's undeniable and somewhat uncomfortable changes in my body. A few months ago, I kicked off a journey to develop healthier lifestyle habits and dropped a few pounds in the healthiest way I ever had. Yet there came a point where it felt like it wasn't enough. That I'd never feel good in my body. That no amount of effort could ever amount to it. Every time the scale jumped back up a pound or two I'd ruminate on all the terrible ways to lose it again. 

I didn't want to be rail thin, and I still don't; Ozempic isn't an option. I want to be strong and capable and the body that can provide that would be one that I'd love. I'd like to believe in myself enough to get it. So after crying in my boyfriend's arms about it being seemingly impossible and having him shake some sense into me, he showed me a video. 

Now I've loved Casey since I was a teenager and I remember watching his videos way back when, but this was new to me. Give it a watch, but as a courtesy TL;DR: Casey suffered a bike accident and was told he'd never run again. 25 marathons and 17 years later, he broke his personal record of completing a sub-2 marathon.

I'd been telling my partner for months, whenever I felt like quitting: "I can do hard things". He looked at me, both of us with tears in our eyes because we're suckers for a feel-good story, and said, "You can do hard things." 

His friend had just posted an Instagram story of his own success at the Paris Marathon, so it was settled. We leaned in and touched foreheads. "Why are you making me do this?" I asked. "You're making you do this." 

He helped me find a few marathon training plans, and I spent the next week at the library combining a few different plans and my own strength training plan from my personal trainer to make a tailored schedule. I would strength train 3 times a week, and run 4 times a week, with 2 rest days. I mentally created a few rules to live by.

No more not eating. I spent my teenage years hangry and lonely–I won't be doing it again. I downloaded a calorie tracker (at first glance, wildly counterintuitive), but for the purpose of making sure I'm eating enough. I'm no protein head but training for a marathon on top of functional strength training means being on top of nutrition to avoid injuries. In lieu of MyFitnessPal, I opted for an ethically ambiguous app: a cartoon raccoon who reminds me to log my lunch. I named him Aaron Sorkin, and he advocates for optimal fiber consumption. He can be a bit of a drama queen when I forget a log, but it's appreciated.

At no point in training for a marathon is there ever a moment where rest is perceived as a negative thing. Sure, Pheidippides inspired the modern-day race, but he's also rumored to have collapsed and died immediately after announcing the Greeks' victory over the Persians.  

The Galloway method. Some weird science behind how walking for short periods between running actually makes you faster. Despite what the marketing department at Nike believes, it's something I've incorporated into my training.

Your mind will stop you before your body does. It's anticipatory anxiety. Before your glycogen stores have even fully depleted, your mind is telling you that you can't do it. It's too hard. It's uncomfortable. The uncertainty, the monument of it all. And yet, every person who's run one has confirmed that the minute you cross that finish line, something in your brain changes: there is absolutely nothing in this world that you can't do, once you set your mind to it.

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I'm in week five of my training, and in the first four weeks, I ran a cumulative 50 miles. The first mile is still always the hardest, but I've already noticed how much I've changed in such a short amount of time. I feel more confident in myself, I can "switch" out of my negative thoughts much quicker than before, and there's this newfound optimism that's free-flowing, and miraculous to tap into. 

I'm finally one of those people who can listen to 70s roadtrip rock and run a casual 5 miles. I love it, and it feels so much better than how I've previously moved through the world. At the end of the day, that's all I (or we) can really ask for.

Sincerely,
Elena