Pittsburgh Marathon 2025 Race Recap: My First 26.2 Miles

I’d had the date circled for 16 weeks.

The Pittsburgh Marathon was the goal race. My first full marathon. A course known for its hills, bridges, and late-race grit checks. And I didn’t pick it because it was easy — I picked it because it was home(ish), tough, and personal. The kind of course you can’t fake your way through.

I trained hard for this. Weekly long runs, workouts, early alarms, sore legs.

By the time race day came around, I’d logged over 400 miles and was as ready as I was going to be. I wasn’t showing up to jog it — I wanted to race. My goal was somewhere around 3:10, which would’ve put me within shouting distance of a Boston Qualifier. I knew that was ambitious for my first marathon, especially on a course like this, but I felt strong and wanted to go for it.

The result? A day I’ll remember for a long time — the good, the brutal, and everything in between.

Prefer to watch the Pittsburgh Marathon Recap?

Pittsburgh Marathon Race Recap

Lead-Up to the Pittsburgh Marathon

Kaitlyn and I drove to Pittsburgh on Friday and stayed with my cousin and his wife for the weekend.

He was running the marathon too, raising over $1,400 for the American Cancer Society, which was awesome to see and added an extra layer to the event. It was more than just a race — it felt like a full-on family event.

On Saturday, Kaitlyn and I kicked things off with the Pittsburgh 5K — part one of the Steel Challenge. She was running the half on Sunday and I’d be taking on the full, so we’d both get the extra medal for completing the weekend double.

After the 5K, we headed to the expo, picked up our bibs and shirts, and made our way through the vendor booths. I stopped by a few to say hi to brand reps I’ve worked with, which was cool. There was plenty of buzz and energy, and I walked away with a bobblehead version of myself, courtesy of a State Farm booth. A little weird, but also awesome at the same time.

Race morning started early with a 4:45 AM alarm.

After some coffee, a granola bar, and a quick stop in the bathroom with a bit of runner’s luck, we all piled into my uncle’s truck: me, Kaitlyn, my cousin and his wife, and my aunt and uncle. We parked at the Convention Center downtown, then split up once we got close to the start.

Kaitlyn headed to her corral (D), my cousin went to C, and I made my way up to A.

The weather was perfect — mid-50s and the rain held off. My legs felt good. I was confident. Nervous, sure, but I thought there was a shot I could hit my 3:10–3:12 goal if I played it smart early. What was most odd was that I didn’t feel very nervous. This was my first “big” race since the Mesa Half Marathon, so I thought I’d have more nerves. But I was calm.

The only hiccup pre-race: I didn’t get a chance to hit the bathroom before the start, so I made a note to hit the first ones I saw. Not ideal, but better to get it out of the way early.

At 7:00 AM, the race started. I crossed the line and the fireworks started overhead — a first at the marathon apparently.

And I did my best to settle into race pace.

Early Miles (0-13)

The first few miles I tried to keep myself in check and not go out too hot.

The only problem with that is that I got stuck behind the 3:40 pacer in the corral. I was aiming for a sub-3:10, so I wanted to make up ground (despite constantly reminding myself that I had the ENTIRE race to slowly chip away).

The Strip District had a solid turnout, and I made my quick stop at the porta-potties just before mile 1. In and out without stress, and then I was back cruising.

The pace felt smooth through the first few bridges and neighborhoods. I clipped through the early miles in the low 7:20s and gradually eased into the 7:10–7:15 range by mile 5 or 6. It felt quick but manageable.

My legs felt good, breathing was controlled, and nothing felt forced.

Crowd support picked up as we looped through the North Side and crossed back over the river, looping through the West End, and on to South Shore.

Around mile 9 I made a comment to the runner next to me about how the crowd was getting my hyped. He glanced over at me, then replied, “Don’t you make YouTube videos?” Making this the first time I’ve ever been recognized in public from the content I create, which was cool and weird at the same time.

Miles 11-12 were where things started to get a bit tougher.

The steady 7% grade over the Birmingam bridge was enough to put a little fatigue in my legs. Follow that with the biggest climb of the race — the hill into Oakland — and the first cracks started to show.

The crowds were also a bit thinner here, which only added to the hit it seemed to have on me.

I crossed the halfway point in 1:39 and change — around goal pace but still feeling okay. HR was high, but manageable. I knew I’d been riding the line a bit.

Still, at that point, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Middle Miles (13-20)

Coming off the hill into Oakland, I told myself I’d recover.

The Birmingham Bridge climb and that long grind into Oakland were tough, sure — but I figured it was just a rough patch. A dip. Something I could bounce back from once the course leveled out and I got back into rhythm.

I backed off the pace a bit and focused on getting in more Tailwind — my High Carb Fuel mix that had worked during training. I’d been taking small sips every 10–12 minutes to stretch each bottle across an hour. But now, each sip felt heavier. My stomach started to turn.

By miles 15–16, I knew I was in trouble.

It wasn’t one big blowup — more like a slow unraveling. The pace slipped. My stride felt flat. And mentally, I shifted into survival mode. I started counting down: “Just get to single-digit miles left.” That was the new goal. Mentally, nine miles sounds more manageable than 10, 11, or 12.

What really caught me off guard was just how relentless the back half of this course is.

It’s not steep or dramatic — it just keeps rolling. Long, gradual inclines that chip away at your legs and your willpower. I’d underestimated that stretch from miles 11 to 22, and now I was paying for it.

My fueling plan was falling apart too. Around mile 16, I stopped taking Tailwind altogether.

My stomach was on the verge of flipping, and I had a bar in my pack, but just the thought of eating it made me nauseous. So I switched to water and hoped for the best.

By this point I had kind of resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t coming close to my goals, but I was fine with it.

Being my first marathon, I shifted into lesson learning mode. I had botched this, and through my own stupidity on things I know. But now I just need to get through it, spend a little time in the pain cave, and have a crack again another attempt.

This wasn’t for nothing, I told myself…then the 3:20 pacer went past me and I died a little inside.

End Miles (20-26.2)

From mile 20 on, every aid station became the next goal.

I’d stop just long enough to drink the full cup of water, toss it in the bin, and take a few seconds to let my legs regroup before forcing them back into motion. That quick pause was the only thing keeping me upright.

By mile 24, we were back in the Strip District — and that stretch just dragged.

You can see the city skyline in front of you, like some cruel reminder that you’re almost there. Almost. But not quite. I couldn’t take in the views. I couldn’t even look up. I just stared at the road, locked into a loop of “get to the next station, drink water, keep moving.”

I kept thinking I’d get a second wind. One last push. But it definitely never came.

Even watching the clips back for my YouTube video, I can see how deep in the pain cave I was. There’s no final kick, no triumphant charge to the line — just a slow, steady march to the finish. I see there are people around me who are also finishing, I don’t remember half of them.

And finally, I crossed in 3:30:33. I didn’t speed up. I didn’t collapse. I just… stopped.

It was a strange mix of relief and defeat. I wasn’t angry or disappointed — I’d already processed the reality that this race wasn’t going to go the way I hoped. I was just completely emptied. The Pittsburgh course gave me a masterclass in marathon reality, and I took it.

After the finish line, I grabbed a water and made my way out of the runners’ area, where I sat down and waited for Kaitlyn and her parents to find me.

They’d been cheering from about a half mile out, so it took a few minutes for them to get through the crowds.

But when they showed up, I nearly cried. Kaitlyn brought me a Coke, and her mom handed her a ginger ale — which, in a perfect post-marathon twist, I ended up drinking later after vomiting in the middle of downtown Pittsburgh.

The final stamp of validity on my first marathon. I’m now a marathoner.

Reflection, Takeaways, and What’s Next

Looking back, the biggest thing I can say is: I learned.

I went out too hot. I didn’t make a real effort to get near the 3:10 pace group in the corral, and I let that push to make up time early dictate too much of the first 10 miles. I told myself I was fine, that I had time — but the pace I was running wasn’t one I could hold. Especially not on that course.

Fueling was my biggest mistake.

I relied entirely on Tailwind High Carb Fuel without a real backup plan. I’d used it during training, but not often enough at race pace — and that came back to bite me around mile 16. My stomach turned, and I had nothing else in the tank. Literally.

It was a rookie move, and I knew better. That’s going to be one of my top priorities for the next training cycle: fueling smarter, practicing it more, and always having a plan B.

And finally, those hills. I trained for them — plenty of hill runs leading up to race day — but the back half of the Pittsburgh course is just different. It’s not steep, but it wears on you. Long, gradual inclines that don’t let up. Next time, I want to be stronger in that second half. I don’t want to survive it. I want to race it.

So what’s next? A friend and I are planning to make a run at a Boston Qualifier.

Right now, we’re eyeing the Erie Marathon or the Wineglass Marathon — both fast courses and good shots for a BQ attempt. But I’m also planning to mix in some fastpacking and trail running this summer, get out into the mountains, and balance the serious stuff with a bit of adventure.

For now, I’ve got the Ogden Half Marathon coming up in Wheeling in a few weeks, which will be my first half marathon since the Mesa Half. No time goals, just running for fun and to shake off the Pittsburgh rust.

It’s funny — right after the race, I told Kaitlyn I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do this again. But I knew, even then, that I didn’t mean it. Within an hour (and one good puke later), I was already thinking about the next one.

There’s just something about the marathon.

The shared suffering. The energy. The strangers cheering. The community. Everyone wants the same thing — for you to make it. And that environment is so rare, so unique, and honestly, kind of addictive.

So yes, I’ll be back. And next time, I’ll be ready.