The Road Less Traveled: Reflections on My First 26.2 (Running Playlist Attached) by Jared Harding Wilson

by Jared Harding Wilson

The morning of my first marathon begins in the quiet, crisp dark. Long before the sun clips the edges of the Salt Lake valley, the preparation is already tangible. For me, it was a quiet hotel room in Salt Lake City, moving carefully in the dim light so my wife could sleep. Running attire and safety-pinned racing bib number 942 to my shirt all laid out. The air outside was cold, but inside, it was pure nervous excitement.

Fueling up on a quick breakfast of a banana and a granola bar, I walked out into the early hours. Everywhere I looked, figures in running garb were moving through the dim streetlights toward the TRAX station. On the train, we were packed in like sardines. The energy was electric. I struck up a conversation with a group of older, seasoned marathoners in front of me—one of whom was on her 26th marathon!

“Hold onto your energy,” they warned me, sensing my rookie adrenaline. “The crowd will make you want to start fast. Don’t do it. Pace yourself.”

When we finally arrived at the starting village, the atmosphere felt less like a grueling athletic trial and more like a massive, joyful festival. Among the 11,000 eager faces, I saw a guy in a full banana suit and a woman dressed head-to-toe as a race car driver. I dropped off my hoodie at the gear check, lined up at the start, and then—BANG. The starting gun fired, our timing chips crossed the mat, and the journey began.

The Fork in the Road

To keep my mind off the arduousness of the miles ahead, I queued up spiritually uplifting podcasts. The miles clicked away beautifully as we passed iconic local landmarks. We ran past the Capitol Building and neared Temple Square, where the Conference Center and the Salt Lake Temple stood proud against the morning sky. My breathing was steady, my pace was consistent, and the crowds were incredible—lining nearly every corner with funny signs, while amazing volunteers handed out water, Gatorade, and Gu packets.

But then came the moment that changed the entire nature of the day.

A massive sign loomed over the asphalt ahead. It directed half-marathon runners to the right and FULL Marathon runners to the left. I steered left.

Instantly, the massive ocean of thousands of runners dropped down to a mere trickle. It was a literal manifestation of “the road less traveled.” I later learned that out of the 11,000+ people out there that day, only 2,008 of us were running the full 26.2. The sudden quiet was breathtaking. It was just us now.

The Hill and the Wall

For the first half of the race, I was locked into a solid 10-minute mile pace. I felt strong. But a marathon always demands its toll, and this course saved its fiercest test for the 3rd quarter.

It was a brutal down-and-back stretch. First, you coast downhill, watching faster runners already coming back, but then you turn around and face a miles-long, grinding incline back up. That hill was, by far, the hardest part of the entire race. My pace dropped significantly as my legs turned to lead, and my right knee and left hip began to ache with a vengeance.

When you are deep in that kind of physical poverty, your mind has a lot of time to ponder. I thought about a favorite scene from Forrest Gump—that relentless, steady coast across the country. But mostly, I thought about my beautiful, kind, patient, loving, and deeply spiritual wife. I thought about God, and the sheer beauty of this world. Trudging up that hill, it hit me: anyone can start over at any time in life and accomplish anything good. You can come back up out of pits of despair, or pain, or terrible mistakes, and adversity. The miles aren’t just a physical distance; they are a space for renewal.

The High Gear Finish

Reaching the top of that hill, I knew the end was near. It was time to shift gears mentally, so I switched over to my “Running – Ultimate” Apple Music playlist.

The Final Stretch Soundtrack:
Running Up That Hill (The Epic Version) – Kate Bush (Stranger Things Arrangement)
My Shot – Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton)
How to Train Your Dragon (Main Theme – Epic Version)

Pumped on a fresh wave of cinematic adrenaline, I kept going and going. And then, finally, the finish line structure materialized in the distance. The crowds grew thick, their roaring cheers echoing off the pavement.

I pulled out my secret weapon for the final stretch: Samuel Kim’s Star Wars (Epic Main Title).

Despite a body that was screaming in protest and dead-tired muscles, the music took over. I kicked it into high gear and flat-out sprinted across the finish line.

Crossings and New Horizons

Waiting right there at the end, with her arms outstretched, was my wife. Heart beating erratically, sweating profusely, and breathing hard, I held her tight. And in that moment, all was right in the world. For years, I had wanted to do this. And I did it.

The finish area was a full-on celebration—complete with a live band, food trucks, and booths. Also, my amazing mother-in-law (who is a marathon veteran herself!) was there routing me on.

The Final Stats:

 Time: 5 hours, 10 minutes, 12 seconds, and 56 nanoseconds.

 Average Pace: 11:50 per mile (thanks to that mountain of a hill!).

 Placement: 1,524th out of 2,008 full marathon runners.

[INSERT PHOTO: Close-up of your race bib with the official results sticker]

Joining the 1% Club

After the race, I looked up some statistics and was completely blown away by what 26.2 miles actually means in the grand scheme of things.

Did you know that less than 1% of the global population will ever complete a marathon in their lifetime? Even in the United States, where the sport is incredibly popular, only about 0.5% to 1% of the population has ever crossed a full marathon finish line. Every single year, only about 0.01% of the world’s population gets to wear that medal.

When you look at the raw numbers, it feels exclusive. But the truth is, the only difference between the people on that course and the people on the sidelines is the decision to start.

If you have ever had even a flickering thought of running a marathon, consider this your sign to lace up your shoes. It is arduous, it is humbling, and it will break you down—but what you find when you rebuild yourself on the other side is worth every single mile. Up next for me? The Cedar City Half Marathon… and maybe, just maybe, the St. George Marathon.

See you on the trail.

Over to You!

Have you ever thought about taking on the 26.2-mile challenge, or do you have a favorite local race you love to run? If you’ve run one before, how did you survive “the wall”? Let’s chat in the comments below!