Keep the Dream Alive

Editor’s note: We’ve been following Lostboys co-founder Tim Rossi’s attempts to crack 2:30 in the marathon for a minute now. We first covered his 2018 NYC Marathon, which, as the below piece makes clear, has – for now – remained Tim’s PR. We’ve followed him on more humbling outings, in NYC in 2021 and in Berlin in 2022. We watched him prepare for Chicago last year. (Even this is, no doubt, only a partial list.)

Why do we always return to this theme of one runner trying to break an arbitrary round number? Partly it’s loyalty – his as well as ours. He’s our longest-standing correspondent, our man in New York. But more importantly, runners like Tim represent the higher end of what’s possible for everyday runners who give it their all. He’s faster than most Tempo readers but slower than a few. As Tim writes below, he keeps doing this – even when he gets knocked down over and over again – because he believes in pursuing his potential. We believe that’s worth something, too. And that’s why we wish Tim all the best for the 2024 Boston Marathon.

Here we go again.

Writing on a Monday, seven days out from Boston, I’m once again talking about trying to break 2:30. Forgive me if you’ve heard this once before.

But for all the times I’ve talked about this goal of mine, it feels different this time. I’ve been doing this for 10 years now; I ran my first marathon in 2014 (NYC, 2:49:09) after having started running in 2010. And from there it was relatively smooth sailing – races just meant PRs because I was simply so new to the sport that any training I was doing meant I was getting better. And this progress (loosely) translated to the marathon - 2:46:12 at NYC 2016, 2:52:59 at Boston 2017 (very injured, definitely a setback), 2:31:19 at NYC 2018.

That last one represented a PR of 15 minutes – I was on the top of the world. Below is a quote from what I wrote for Tempo after NYC 2018:

“There are more leaps left to take, because I still believe. That I have yet to reach my full potential. That there is more there. That I can be more.”
I thought I was going to run 2:18 by 2020, keep PRing indefinitely, that I’d unlocked something in myself and was just scratching the surface. Instead, I was served up injury after injury, knocking me down time and time again to the point where, all of a sudden, it’s 2024 and I can’t remember that confidence the 2018 version of me had.

I guess most people don’t set a new PR and think, “That's it, I know that’s going to be a lifetime best.” But at some point you’re faced with that reality.

So here I am, wavering. I’m unsure if my best days are ahead of me. I’m 31, and it’s been six years since I really cracked the marathon with that PR in New York City. Since then, I’ve had an IT band that cooked me, a hip labrum that has stifled progress. As more and more time has passed, I’ve let those nagging thoughts creep in: 2:30 is beyond you; your PRs are in the past; you’re not the runner you once were. It’s hard to have that confidence and belief when the hard data backs up those feelings.

And that’s okay; it has to happen eventually.

“Or what? What’s your alternative?” – John L Parker Jr, Once a Runner

But what if – what if that isn’t it? I am different than I was, and that’s okay. In fact, it’s a good thing. I’ve grown, I’ve learnt. I don’t need blind confidence; I just need to give myself a chance.

I’m older, but I’m not old.

So we train, we focus, we press hard enough where the cold, hard facts of training tell a more hopeful story – that I have a chance.

2022: 2:34:04, with Covid, in Berlin.
2023: 2:32:47 in Chicago.

The pessimist in me looks at those results and sees me pressing up against the limits of my potential, but the optimist in me sees those results putting me back in the game.

I’m not dead yet.

I’m within shouting distance of where I once was, and I’ve taken a step forward in training. Faster long runs, more volume at pace, higher mileage. Objectively, I’m better than I was when I headed into Chicago, so where does that leave me?

On the other hand, it’s Boston we’re talking about. It’s a notoriously hard course to get right. The downhills at the start invite quick starts, with the course tricking even the most experienced runners into smashing their quads in the early miles before hitting them with the good old 1–2 (3–4) combo of hills in miles 16–21. This course hands out crippling positive splits every year. And the weather, oh, the weather. Who the hell knows if it’ll even be a 2:30 day with the fickle spring Boston weather. We could get hail or we could get a scorcher, and we probably won’t know for sure until 24 hours out.

And then there’s 2:30 - a random, meaningless goal to anyone outside of a very, very niche community. Way faster than a BQ but way slower than an OTQ. I’m sitting in no-man’s land, and it’s not lost on me that, if you really zoom out, we’re talking about 80 seconds between my PR and this random goal. So why keep chasing it? Because I believe in the pursuit of potential; I believe in having goals that you chase.

Sometimes you achieve ’em, sometimes you don’t – that’s running, that’s life.

I once attached so much value to the idea of breaking 2:30, but my life is different now. My girlfriend and I have a puppy now; my job is busier; I’ve got tons of other things that bring me joy and keep me busy.

I don’t need sub 2:30, but I want it.

And that’s kinda the point; one day I’ll look back on all this and be able to smile because I know I didn’t compromise. I gave it an honest shot, and that’s all we can do. I’ll stand tall on the Boston start line this coming Monday. I’ll have my plan, and I’ll commit.

I’m going to give it my all, because that’s all I’ve got.

And in the end it really doesn’t matter, but it matters to me.

KTDA: Keep the dream alive.