POV: You Decided to Run the Best Marathon in America

With legs still aching and post-race euphoria still beaming, Expedition Detroit's Founder shares his "point-of-view" experience running his first marathon at the "Best Marathon in America": the Detroit Free Press Marathon.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

More than 26,000 aspiring runners had signed up for the weekend's main events, but for a few brief moments, only one runner approached the soaked starting line. With the early morning rain and wind pelting the eager group of runners waiting in Corral "D," this particular runner suddenly remembered this his bib had the letter "B" on it. The runners with "Cs" were just finishing their send off, strutting off into the storm.

Roughly 50 yards of dark, wet, and empty Fort Street remained between this runner and the initiation of a dream that had captivated his athletic goals for 20+ years - and thwarted them for over a decade.

He dipped under the Corral "D" rope, deeply breathing in the crisp, monsoon air. Each step slowly and carefully placed, resisting the inevitable adrenaline rush of starting a race. Especially this race. THE race.

Finally the steps ran out. In ritualistic fashion, the runner raised his left wrist, pressed a button that signaled an all-too-familiar chime from his Garmin watch, and a timer commenced.

At 7:15AM on October 19th, yours truly started running the 2025 Detroit Free Press Marathon - voted by USA Today as the "Best Marathon in America." This marathon was not only my first 26.2 mile venture, but also represented the culmination of decades of dreaming, planning, injuries, successes, and a library's worth of life lessons. My quads are still burning as I write these words, so the memories of the experience are as fresh as the leftover finish line bananas.

If running a marathon remains unchecked on your bucket list, then this article is for you.

If your goals have been chronically undercut by injuries or the unexpected twists and turns of life, then this article is especially for you.

Without further delay, here is a first time marathoner's POV account of running the "Best Marathon in America": the Detroit Free Press Marathon.

Vice President Al Gore with his daughters at the 1997 Marine Corps Marathon

The Journey to the Starting Line | October 1997 - 2025

There are near-infinite ways to train for a marathon, but one constant is that the race begins long, long before the starting line. Something, at some point, sparked the interest. No one has ever just woke up one day and blurted out "You know what, I want to pay to subject myself to a 26.2 mile death march! Yeah!!"

No, there's always a specific moment where the dopamine of inspiration first hit.

Mine occurred shortly after October 26th, 1997.

The first thing that I remember is the texture of the red and yellow ribbon.

"Check this out, Daniel," Jerry Leachman, a life-long mentor and one of my best friend's dad, said to me as he extended a military dog tag-shaped medal towards me. "I just ran the Marine Corps Marathon. How cool is this?"

The medal itself was indeed very cool, but the true reason of why that memory remains intact 28 years later is that it was the first time that I ever heard the word "marathon." Or at least heard it in a way that registered something personal, tangible, and aspirational.

That's owed a lot to the man who was holding the medal. Jerry was, and continues to be, one of my personal heroes. As a kid, I looked up to Jerry as an outdoorsman, athlete, and a man of great faith and personal conviction. The Leachman home was decorated in memorabilia from his years playing football at the University of Alabama under legendary coach Paul "Bear" Bryant, trips all over the world, photos with U.S. presidents and foreign dignitaries, and other accolades that captivated my young mind.

Put differently, if someone with Jerry's caliber of character and experience was excited about running a marathon, then I wanted - no, needed - to do the same.

At the starting line of the 2015 Novi Half Marathon

That childhood dream laid dormant for 13 years, mostly due to prioritizing team sports like soccer, hockey, football, and lacrosse over running. Even during those years, however, there were inklings of interest in endurance sports. When my family first moved to Michigan in 2007, my older brother and I completed all of a week of cross-country running before quitting. He always had a sprinter's build and hated anything beyond a 5K. I hated the thought of running long miles through an unfamiliar community by myself, but I started to love the feeling of accomplishment of completing lengthy runs literally the day before we quit.

Fast forward to May of 2015, I completed my first half marathon - the Novi Half Marathon - with a P.R. that still holds up and two shins riddled with micro-fractures. I swore off distance running after that event due to the pain of committing every training faux pas imaginable. More so than my legs, my mind needed 2 years to recover from the trauma of those mistakes before running - and falling in love with - the 2017 Detroit Free Press International Half Marathon.

The journey from the 2017 Freep Marathon to this year's rendition alone provided a rollercoaster of running successes and failures. The high points included falling in love with competitive trail running and regularly winning age group awards in the 10K "sprint" and half marathon events. The low points all consisted of injuries and significant life turns that resulted in chronically-deferred full marathon entries - 3 to be exact.

Here's a short list of the contributing factors that lead to missed marathons:

• Shin splints and corresponding micro-fractures

• Stress of law school and studying for the Michigan Bar Exam

• Extensor tendonitis

• Adjusting to new employment positions

• Starting a new business (this one)

• Navigating an unexpected divorce

• Training for climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro

• Iliotibial ("IT") band syndrome

FINALLY, in 2025, the well of limiting factors ran dry. With my 2024 deferred registration in place, I spent this year revitalizing my IT band issues, cross-training, and prioritizing the marathon as THE top priority for my training. In other words, every other athletic pursuit needed to serve the all-consuming purpose of marathon training. Distractions or detractions were strictly off limits. Marathon or bust. No more excuses.

My point in providing this quarter century overview is to illustrate that every marathoner has a story. One does not simply arrive at the starting line; beyond the months of training, cultivating the ability to run 26.2 miles starts with inspiration and endures through all of the hurdles that life can manage to throw at you.

That's why you'll see so many runners crying at the finish line. The race means so much more than any of us realize.

Let's get to the race now.

The Wam-Up Phase | Miles 1 - 3

Energy Level: Nervous anticipation

Pacing Strategy: 10 minute/mile pace

Actual Pace: 10:30 minute/mile pace

With a decade+ of running experience behind me - and a dialed-in pre-race routine executed - all that was left to do was to start the race. The night before I had housed down enough chicken pad thai to feed a small village and managed to get ~6 hours of pre-race sleep. I leapt out of bed at 4:30 a.m. sharp to have a cup of tea, take a 5 minute cold plunge, eat a power breakfast of toast, peanut better, honey, banana, and chia seeds, and gulp down a small cup of coffee to "get the system moving" (critical step of the pre-race routine). I was on the road at 5:30 on the dot to get downtown with ample time.

Parking was a madhouse, hence my arrival to the starting line with Corral "D" vs. my designated "B." Once positioned front and center in Corral D, fully-engulfed by both the rain and crowd, I glanced at my watch. The time read 7:14 a.m. I knew that my girlfriend and two friends would be arriving to the festivities in a few hours, braving the inclement weather for a few hours only to see me pass by in a matter of seconds. I was suddenly hit with the sentiment that every second spent standing there, waiting to start, was a second more that they would have to endure the poor conditions.

"Screw that,"I thought to myself. I ducked under the rope and started the steady march to the starting line.

With the watch activated and the legs moving, I was off with thousands of my closest friends into the darkness of the early, eery morning. Most of the runners appeared visibly bothered by the rain and wind. Not I - I found the inhospitable conditions invigorating. The perfect recipe for pushing your body and mind well outside of its comfort zone.

My game plan was to spend the first few miles "warming up," which for me meant a ~10 minute per mile pace. I intentionally shortened my stride and focused on not giving in to the cardinal sin of going too fast, too early. Mile 1 down Fort Street came in at a 10:12 pace, spent largely trying to avoid the massive puddles of rainwater pooling in the street. "Perfect," I audibly said as the pace came through my headphones.

Mile 2 hit towards the end of crossing the Ambassador Bridge, which is THE definitive highlight of the whole marathon experience. I kept my legs moving and mind focused while crossing the bridge, but you couldn't help but smile watching everyone's faces light up at how damn cool of an experience running across the bridge is. From the views to the fact that you're actively running into a new country, there's an innate rush to running over the Ambassador Bridge that makes it a bucket list-worthy experience.

By the end of Mile 3, I was averaging a 10:30 minute pace. Notably more conservative than my initial game plan, so I hoped it would pay off in a few hours. In the meantime, I figured that the slower miles meant that I could feed the adrenaline rush that I had been ignoring for the past 30 minutes. Finally. And just in time for the roaring Windsor crowds.

The Highlight Reel Phase | Miles 4 - 11

Energy Level: Unbridled enthusiasm

Pacing Strategy: 9:30 minute/mile pace

Actual Pace: 9:28 minute/mile pace

If a runner tries to tell you that they weren't smiling the entirety of Windsor's Riverside Drive, then you've just outed a stone cold liar. Miles 4 through 6 occur entirely in Canada, and we whole-heartedly believe that those 3 miles are some of the most memorable of the entire experience. From the uniquely-Canadian signs, festive costumes, and unbeatable views of Downtown Detroit, running into Windsor provides enough of a reason to register for the full or international half marathon.

But wait, there's more. Mile 7 starts the world's only "underwater mile" while running through the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel. While this experience tends to be more divisive on its enjoyability vs. the unanimous pleasure of crossing the Ambassador Bridge, the close proximity during the tunnel does provide a mile of solidarity where the course is only experienced by runners. I can't think of another world-class marathon that has such a moment of singularity shared only among your fellow participants.

Emerging from the depths of the tunnel, you're met with an explosion of life along Jefferson Avenue, which continues until Mile 10 along Woodward Avenue. The area surrounding the exit of the tunnel is especially inundated with cheering fans, which for a runner provides an unmistakable sensation of immortality. Seriously. Running through thousands of cheering "fans" elicits an unmatched rush of endorphins.

I was smiling ear-to-ear - and dropping my pace to a more familiar 9:06 minute - through Mile 11 in Midtown.

Into the Unknown Phase | Miles 12 - 17

Energy Level: Full faith in the training regimen

Pacing Strategy: 9:15 minute/mile pace

Actual Pace: 8:55 minute/mile pace

Two years ago, I ran the Detroit International Half Marathon for the 3rd time. For the aforementioned reasons, that is a race that I could run every year, for the rest of my life, and never tire of it. Over 80% of the race is simply a highlight reel of the very best of the international Detroit region's trails, sights, and community - and the last 20% is a downtown push to the finish line. A perfect course.

But, when I hit the turnaround point just before Mile 11 of that race - where the marathoners keep left and the half marathoners deviate to the right - something felt wrong. Like I was shying away from the real challenge. Avoiding the inevitable. Taking the easy route.

Let me be clear: nothing about a half marathon is easy. As you know, training for my first one literally broke my legs. But after running several halfs over nearly a decade - and in the midst of revving up an outdoor company focused on highlighting the Detroit region's world-class events - bowing out of the full just didn't sit well with my soul.

"Alright Dan," I promised to myself once the marathoners were out of sight, "the next time that you run this race, you're running ALL of it."

Well, two years later, here I was - cashing in on that promise. Running deeper into the unknown of the course, despite my familiarity with the city. Trusting blindly in my training regimen, remaining calories, and ability to handle adversity.

According to my Strava data, this segment of the race through Midtown and Eastern Market was the pinnacle of my race. Being a proud Wayne State University Law School alum, running along the south side of campus on Warren Avenue was special, as well as cruising past my old stomping grounds on Cass. The crowds remained vibrant and energetic through Eastern Market too, which kept my spirits strong as I passed the 16 Mile marker.

Every step beyond Mile 16 meant setting a new record for the longest run of my life. Venturing farther and farther into unknown territory, both with regard to the course and what my body was capable of.

At ~Mile 17.5, the Dequindre Cut came into view. This was an encouraging sight, seeing as I had run the "Flapjack 5K" back in February along the Cut and remembered its gradual decline towards the Detroit River.

"Final lap," I thought as the Mile 18 marker came into view towards the beginning of the Dequindre Cut. "Let's crush this."

Spoiler alert: I did not crush it. I was about to battle the pain cave.

The Pain Cave Phase | Miles 18 - 25

Energy Level: Ignoring the pain at all costs

Pacing Strategy: 9:15 minute/mile pace (or faster if possible)

Actual Pace: 9:56 minute/mile pace

Right at Mile 18, something flipped for me. I didn't "hit the wall," as so many marathon blogs warn eerily about. "Hitting the wall" is the moment when your body simply runs out of external energy (e.g., energy produced via carbohydrates, fats, and proteins) and switches to other internal fuel sources like fats and proteins.

I know that I didn't hit the wall here because I have hit the wall in past races, including during my age group-winning debut at the 2025 North Country Trail Half Marathon. Right at Mile 11 in that race, I felt everything run empty. Just placing one foot in front of the other constituted a monumental feat of endurance. But then - just in the nick of time to secure the win - my internal energy sources kicked in to close out the race.

Thanks to the mountain of Thai food, power breakfast, and paced use of energy gels during the race, I fortunately avoided a repeat of that experience during the marathon. However, there's not a nutrition plan that can help avoid the pain of your first marathon.

Especially when you're miles and miles past your record-setting longest long run.

The direct wind coming off of the Detroit River and onto the Dequindre Cut didn't help either. In fact, it nearly nullified the benefit of the Cut's consistent downhill slope. It was a welcomed relief when a steady uphill just before Mile 19 led us up and out of the Cut.

Or so I thought. In a sadistic twist of course planning, staring DIRECTLY at you as you emerge from the Dequindre Cut is the marker for Mile 25 - the final mile - and the elite marathoners sprinting right past it. In that moment, you're standing so close to the finish line...but you still have over 7 miles to go. In the opposite direction.

This, dear friends, was the moment that I entered the "Pain Cave," both physically and mentally. From Mile 19 on, everything waist-down started to hurt. My IT band issues flared up every half mile or so. The toes in my right foot felt broken. My left shin started to ache. Put differently, mementos from every running injury that my legs had endured over the last decade resurrected at the worst possible time.

I was far from being the only "cave dweller" in this segment. Left and right, as we marched through gorgeous Indian Village, runners were starting to give in to their ailments. Even in my weakened state, I passed by runners who were cruising through the Windsor and Midtown segments. Everyone seemed to have arrived at the same destination of objective pain, regardless of fitness level or training regimen.

The race was not longer purely physical. From especially Mile 20 on, we would all be tested on our mental resilience.

Here were the mantras that got me through the Pain Cave:

1. The Pain will Pass. I'm currently reading The Rise of the Ultra Runners by Adharanand Finn, which details several world-class ultra marathons and the super-humans that complete them. One key takeaway from the book is that pain, as opposed to serious injury, represents an inevitable variable in any long distance race. The key is to not fixate on it or try to fight it. Instead, embrace the pain with the knowledge that (i) it is indicative of the difficult task you're pursuing and (ii) it will pass.

   
   

2. The Way is Through. This mantra is one that I've utilized countless times over the last four years, most notably during the summit push for Mt. Kilimanjaro and while buried in endless hours of legal work. While those two examples may seem worlds apart, mentally they are exactly on par with each other. In practice, this mantra means that there's no amount of complaining or miraculous rescue plan that will get you to your final destination. There's only one way to get to the freedoms and enjoyment of the other side - by moving through the experience.

   
   

3. Focus on the Why. At Mile 22, runners seemed to be dropping off their target paces like flies. Walking. Sitting. Stretching. No longer running the marathon, but surviving the experience. For me, as early as 1997, I've wanted to be able to say with a clear conscience that I ran a marathon. Not walked or power hiked one. Ran one. And, on the other side of this seemingly endless course, with continued effort, I will be able to say that for the rest of my life.

Those 3 mantras reverberated through my soul as the prodigal Mile 25 sign FINALLY came back into sight. Just 1.2 miles to go. The pain will pass. The way is through. Keep focusing on why you're here.

The Marathoner Phase | Mile 26

Energy Level: Inexplicable gratitude

Pacing Strategy: Empty the tank

Actual Pace: Who cares

The rain had fully kicked back in towards the end of Mile 25, right as I approached a large overpass with a notable crowd strategically cheering under it.

"I bet that's where they are," I said to myself through heavy breaths.

Sure enough, once my energy-depleted vision managed to zero-in on the crowd, I spotted my friend Ryan holding a massive "DAN" sign in bright blue paint. Next to him was his fianceé Sam, holding a "CHAFE YOUR DREAMS" sign in purple. And, last but certainly not least, my girlfriend Emily was proudly holding a sign that I'm prohibited from describing here (prompted a massive Mile 26 smile though).

I deviated towards them, gave her probably the saltiest kiss of her life, and without breaking pace kept pushing towards the elusive finish line.

Finally, I turned north towards Campus Martius on Woodward, and there it was. The finish line. The final destination for nearly three decades' worth of dreams, and a decade's amount of training. Most importantly, the point where I can stop running.

"Thank you...thank you." Those were the only words, equally in prayer and a recognition of relief, that I could conjure as I emptied the energy tank.

And then, in a moment blurred by the full spectrum of emotion, I crossed the finish line. The race ended. My legs stopped running.

My mind could finally rest.

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For the rest of my life, I can proudly state that I ran the "Best Marathon in America": the Detroit Free Press Marathon. If you also dream of sharing that designation, then I sincerely hope that this article helps to move you forward in that journey. Plus, you can always count on Team Expedition Detroit to provide you with the content, inspiration, and insights into making your outdoor dreams a reality.

We'll see you at the starting line.