Sifan Hassan and Eliud Kipchoge find meaning on the streets of New York
The New York City Marathon offered varying degrees of spectacle to running fans. It was a story of different stories for different athletes at different stages of their running careers. Sifan Hassan trotted down the runway with his long stride, keeping his shape even as he released the tension from his face. A few minutes later, Eliud Kipchoge appeared, the man whose name had long been synonymous with perfection, now fighting against time, fatigue and the process itself.
The New York City Marathon is no place for pure narratives. It’s a race that humbles even the best. The bridges bite early, the rolling hills in Central Park are late, and the city never stops screaming. For Hasan and Kipchoge, two Olympic champions from different worlds but bound by the same restless ambition, the city provided a lesson in boundaries.
Hassan’s third marathon of 2025 came just nine weeks after his victory in Sydney. He was chasing some intangible, a rhythm, perhaps, or closure after a year that defied logic. The Dutch star had conquered roads and tracks, running with both power and grace. But New York is a different kind of test. By mile 10, his arms were swinging wider than usual. At 18 miles the lead group of Sharon Lokedi, Helen Obiri and Sheila Chepkirui had pulled away, with a steady rhythm like metronomes. Hassan staggered back, then lunged forward again, breathing hard, uneven speed but defiant.
He would finish sixth in 2:24:43, a time anyone could have matched, but for him it was survival. However, there was no surrender. When asked later how he was feeling, he smiled weakly. “It was hard,” he said, “but I finished. That’s what I was going to do.”
It was an honesty that made him both relatable and rare. Hasan does not hide behind brave deeds. His greatness lies in his willingness to accept pain, to show his humanity, even when the cameras are close. A marathon, he once said, “is life in a few hours. You suffer, you doubt, but you keep moving.”
Farther on, Eliud Kipchoge ran silently. The man who once made the impossible look hopeless was grinding it down with a kind of calculation. His stride, once fluid and unbroken, was now deliberate, each kick a reminder that mastery had a shelf life. He crossed the finish line in 2:14:36, his slowest marathon ever, good for 17th place. Time didn’t matter. The crowd still rose as he entered Central Park, cheering as if they were witnessing a farewell. Kipchoge waved softly, his smile small but sincere.
Two hours later, he stood before reporters and revealed his next move. He called it the Eliud Kipchoge World Tour, seven marathons on seven continents over two years, each one an opportunity, he said, to “run for a purpose.” His foundation will support education and environmental causes.
It was both a tender and heavy moment. Even slowing down, Kipchoge had found movement. Definitely something that will surpass him.
For Hassan, it was another test of endurance, a reminder that greatness is not always defined by victory. For Kipchoge, it was the closing of one chapter and the quiet beginning of another. And to everyone watching, it was proof that even the best can struggle and still find beauty in the ordeal.
As the late evening sun faded over Central Park, Kipchoge stood near the finish line, jacket tucked to his chin, arms folded. He looked at the stream of runners still coming, each one greeted by the same roar. “I wanted to see the bridges,” he said softly. “I wanted to wave at the people.”
