Eliud Kipchoge Has Redefined the Spirit
Some say there are three stories: man vs. man, man vs. self, and man vs. nature. Eliud Kipchoge can now claim himself a victor in all of them. Established as perhaps the greatest marathoner of all time, he had proven time and time again that he could best even the most intrepid challengers; the barriers yet unbroken were not of the human variety. So, his war was then with natural law itself — a barrier so illustrious, so unfathomable that to shatter it as he did at 10:30 AM in Vienna should grant him certain immortality.
It is extraordinarily rare that a race of such emotional import could also be so clinical in its execution, but the narrative of Eliud Kipchoge’s efforts has always been a cool reserve rather than a fiery emotion. Indeed, the race itself was a reflection of its protagonist; a steady pace that did not flinch or blink, kilometer after kilometer. Kipchoge made the race his own, as he had so many times before, churning his legs with a grace that belied his frenetic speed. His 1km splits never varied from the goal pace by more than two seconds, barring his final soul-baring sprint. What a sprint it was, one made possible because Kipchoge had lifted a burden from the weight of our gathered shoulders; what was deemed impossible had been redefined.
We, the collective who watched with bated breath, hardly dared say it during the race. Anything can change over the course of two hours. Even in an event so carefully manicured, there were curveballs. Brutal humidity (hovering around 94% at its peak), fog, slight mistakes in pacer changes, moments of confusion during the curves — ultimately, none of it mattered. All it will amount to is a touch of color in the greater masterpiece that was this performance.
It was a study of miniatures for Kipchoge’s emotions throughout the race: a small smile at mile 12, a distinct sheen of sweat in the rising sun, a slight hesitation in stride to allow a pacer to get in position. There was a noticeable difference between 15km and the half marathon mark, a stutter that reminded those watching around the world that Kipchoge, unbelievably, was still human. And yet, like that fabled little engine, Kipchoge could. He did. The INEOS stream was not only a testament to the human spirit but a two-hour-long film documenting man’s defiance of the natural order.
Nearly 40, unspectacular in profile at 5’6”, Kipchoge was somehow youthful in the circumstances. It showed in his desire to push outside of the formation, to press beyond his pacers into the open space beyond. It showed in the way he drew grown men to sprint like boys alongside the course. In an event so carefully sculpted for his success, the Kenyan still just wanted to run his way. At 29km, the gears shifted as the group collectively ramped up its efforts. Eliud smiled at 31km, perhaps the aching lactic acid in his legs stirring him to some sort of self-discovery, a man’s journey beyond the limits of the body. As the pacers parted in the last quarter mile, the Kenyan unfathomably reached even further into his reserves and rallied the crowd as he began to sprint. A one-man race never felt so selfless. There was a sense that Kipchoge really only did this for the rest of us, to show us what was possible. If Neil Armstrong and his ilk were celebrated for unveiling what was beyond the world, then Kipchoge too deserved commendation for unveiling what was within the body.
Whatever comes next for Kipchoge, whatever comes next for the marathon, both are irrevocably altered by this exchange. Those questions can be answered at a later date. For now, we will celebrate with the same joy as our hero, knowing one elemental truth more so now than ever before: no human is limited.
