We get this question a lot — usually a few weeks before someone's first race, when the nerves are already running high. "If I walk, does it still count?"
I know this question from both sides. I'm a running coach and someone who walked twice during his first marathon. And finished second.
But first — where did this rule even come from?
The idea that a "real" marathoner never walks comes from elite sport. At that level, walking means you're done — a DNF, a lost position, the race is over. And the reason is simple: at the front of the field, everything is at stake — prize money, rankings, national pride. Every second lost can separate a winner from the rest. Nobody thinks about the reasoning when they pass the rule along — they just pass the rule. It leaked into mass running culture and became an unwritten code that nobody introduced but everyone seems to know. And one that, frankly, does more harm than good.
Why it's the wrong metric
It's binary — walked or didn't walk — in a process that's anything but. A marathon isn't a light switch. It's months of preparation, the decision to show up, 26.2 miles of road, and whatever happens in your head between mile 18 and mile 24. Whether you walked for ninety seconds somewhere in there is too blunt an instrument to mean anything.
It also penalises smart racing. The run-walk method — planned alternation of running and walking — is a legitimate strategy used by thousands of marathoners worldwide. Jeff Galloway popularised it in the 1970s, and it has since helped millions of people finish faster and with fewer injuries. Someone who walks for a minute every eight minutes by design is making a smarter tactical decision than someone who hammers through until they hit the wall at mile 20 and shuffles the rest of the way in.
Most importantly, it shifts motivation in the wrong direction. Instead of thinking how do I want to run this race, a first-timer starts thinking how do I avoid the embarrassment of walking. That's anxiety, not strategy.
My story
My first marathon was on Lago Maggiore. The course was shared with the half marathon — for the first 13 miles we all ran together, then the half marathoners peeled off to the finish and marathon continued alone. When everyone I'd been running with turned left, I was suddenly by myself. Somewhere far ahead were first and second place. Somewhere behind me was fourth. I couldn't see any of them.
By mile 18, running without any reference points was getting to me mentally. I started feeling sorry for myself. By mile 21, I decided to walk — just to release the tension that had started to feel pointless.
Then a spectator shouted: "Second place is walking — go!"
Everything changed in an instant. A goal appeared from nowhere. My legs found a second wind I was sure I didn't have. By mile 25, I caught him.
The irony: I was so spent from the chase that at mile 25.5 — just after the last aid station, just before the final climb — I walked again. Thirty metres. Then I heard the crowd behind me cheering on the third-place runner closing in, and I gave everything I had left to the finish line.
Two walks. Second place. 2:44
Why some people walk and others don't
The ability to keep running when it gets hard isn't personality. It isn't willpower. It's a skill, and it's built in training — specifically in long runs.
Long runs teach your brain to stay in a state of continuous movement. They teach you to sit with discomfort without interpreting it as a signal to stop. They teach you to find internal reasons to keep going when there are no external ones — when there's nobody around you, when you're two-plus hours in and can't see the end. And crucially, they calibrate your expectations: you already know what mile 20 feels like, because you've been somewhere close to it in training.
Races do the same thing — half marathons, 10Ks, any event where there's pressure and no option to just stop. Every one of those experiences is training for your head, not just your legs.
Without that practice, it's genuinely hard to prepare yourself for the moment when walking feels like the only option. With it, staying on your feet becomes much more possible.
A note for first-timers
Before your first marathon, settle one thing in your mind: your goal is to finish — not to prove something to a rule that was never written for you. If you need to walk at mile 22, walk. It's not weakness. It's honesty.
But if your goal for next time is to run the whole way — build your long runs. Race more. Accumulate experience with discomfort in controlled conditions. That's where the marathoner's mindset is actually formed, not on race day.
And pay attention to what's happening around you. Sometimes one shout from the roadside is worth ten training runs.
A real marathoner is someone who crosses the finish line. Everything else is detail.