The race ended. The real work started after.
It’s been a little over a month since I last checked in, and that’s on me.
A lot has happened since then.
The biggest thing: I ran the Tokyo Marathon.
And it was incredible.
From the moment race weekend started, you could feel how intentional everything was. Tokyo was one of the most organized experiences I’ve ever been a part of. Even as a foreigner, navigating packet pickup, the expo, and race morning felt seamless.
That doesn’t mean it was quick.
The expo itself was an experience. Packet pickup alone was a process: check-in, wristband, bib, shirt, timer check, then the expo floor itself. I had pre-ordered some merch, thinking it would be a quick pickup.
I was wrong.
The line for pre-ordered merchandise ended up being close to two hours.
By the time I got through packet pickup, waited for merch and made my way through the rest of the expo, I had been there for over four hours.
At the time, it felt like a lot.
Looking back, it was part of the experience.
This wasn’t just another race.It was one of the World Marathon Majors. An international event with runners from everywhere. There was something really special about that. And it was in foreign country which was super cool to me.
Race morning was busy, but luckily I stayed at a hotel right near the starting line. That made all the difference. I’ve learned that minimizing stress before a race matters more than people realize.
That part went smoothly.
The race itself went well, especially considering how close it was to Miami.
If I’m being honest, though, the training block after Miami wasn’t great.
I took some time off after my first marathon, which I needed. But after that, I let some of the habits that were helping me stay healthy slip.
Recovery slacked.
The sauna, cold plunge, red light therapy, stretching, warm-ups, all of it became rushed or inconsistent. That’s something we think about a lot at RNWY too. Keeping athletes moving is never just about the workout. It’s about everything around it.
Mileage between runs wasn’t where it needed to be, and I think the lack of movement tightened everything up.
I still got in a half marathon before Tokyo, but it was nowhere near the consistency I had during the Miami build.
And Tokyo let me know.
Unlike Miami, which I finished pain-free, this race left me beat up.
Midway through the marathon, I started dealing with knee pain and something deeper in my hip flexor area. Maybe psoas, maybe not. I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what it was, but it was enough to affect the race.
Every now and then I had to stop, stretch, reset, and keep moving.
There was even one bathroom stop that turned into a ten-minute wait because I chose the absolute worst stop possible.
Still, I finished.
And the crazy part?
I PR’d.
I ran a better time than Miami.
That was a great feeling, but if I’m being honest, the time wasn’t the biggest takeaway.
The bigger lesson was what happened after.
Tokyo’s finisher experience was incredible.
Once you crossed the finish line, you got your medal, then they funneled you through this long corridor of snacks, drinks, freebies, and different vendors handing things out. It felt almost like a celebration line.
One thing I really appreciated was the changing rooms.
Because the start and finish were in different locations, I had checked a bag with dry clothes before the race. Being able to change into sweatpants and a dry shirt after 26.2 miles was one of the best luxuries I didn’t know I needed.
I grabbed some snacks, made my way to a 7-Eleven, got some fruit, chicken skewers, a Coke, and a few other things, then headed back to the hotel.
That’s when the soreness really started to settle in.
Going downstairs the next day was brutal.
Miami left me tired.
Tokyo left me hurting.
And that was the difference.
When I got home, I tried to get back into running.
Two miles in, pain.
Two and a half, more pain.
Three miles became a jog-walk.
Honestly, it was frustrating.
There was a moment where it felt like the momentum I had built was slipping away.
But that’s where this entry really begins.
Because sometimes progress doesn’t come from forcing the same thing harder.
Sometimes it comes from finding another way forward.
When running hurt, this became my way forward.
For me, that became the StairMaster.
What started as a substitute turned into something much bigger.
I realized I could finally control my heart rate in a way I hadn’t been able to while running. Level six through nine kept me right around mid 130s.
For the first time, true zone 2 cardio felt accessible.
Running has always spiked my heart rate faster than I wanted, regardless of pace.
But on the stairs, I could manipulate the effort.
I could stay controlled.
I could build fitness.
And maybe most importantly, I could do it without pain.
That was the breakthrough.
Tokyo broke my rhythm.
But it also forced me to build a better one.
I’m back to stretching slowly.
Back to warming up properly.
Back in the cold plunge.
Back in the sauna.
Back to respecting recovery.
And now I’ve found something that might actually help me train smarter going into Chicago.
That’s the thing I keep learning through all of this.
Progress doesn’t always look like forward motion.
Sometimes it looks like adaptation.
Sometimes it looks like slowing down.
Sometimes it looks like taking the route you never expected.
But if you stay open to it, there’s always a way forward.
For now, that way forward just happens to be one step at a time.
Literally.
- Dan