You assert that:

"Last month's Chicago Marathon had to be shut down mid-race, because undertrained five- and six-hour marathoners couldn't handle that much time in the 85-degree heat."

While I understand that characterizing it thusly backs up your thesis, the reality is that the uncharacteristically (for Chicago in October heat AND humidity, combined (tragically in one instance) with bizarrely unprepared race organizers, who ran out of water very early in the race (almost immediately, from the sound of things), led to the questionable cancellation of the race.

As a high school English teacher, I'd give you credit for using what we call a concrete detail (CD).

But as a clydesdale and/or penguin (large and/or slow runners, respectively), screw you, buddy.

There was no substance to this article at all, and just a lot of whining in a very nasty way. I took up running the same time the author did, and I will never be an elite runner. However, in response to the person who compared it to sculpture, I would like to say that sculpture isn't necessarily an innate part of human existence. Running is something we all can do and all did do in past times. And it is a lot more fun to have goals and companionship, and to want to deny that to people who are not at the top of the field is selfish and mean-spirited.

Pounding the pavement in the good old days – what a strange article. There is no such thing as a “nearly shockproof” running shoe; everything gets squished over the marathon distance. Would a real hard core runner drop a marathon for a “knee problem?” And, would America enjoy watching marathons limited to throngs of anorexic looking, emaciated bodies pounding the pavement?

and still don't see why so many of you have taken this so seriouosly? it's a run for heaven's sake! the same effect that a half hour of driving would accomplish.
what i found interesting is that for once, in salon, a mention of "genetic advantage" was not followed by cries of "racism!". is that because kenyans are black? (similarly for the west african prowess in sprinting - how come not music? just as good a case can be made for west africans (the ancestors of jazz reggae etc) having some "rhythmic music gene")
to me the essence of the piece(which i agree wasn't written so well) was marathon as metaphor "It makes me ask: Has this country's marathoning spirit been trampled by hordes of joggers whose only goal is to stagger across the finish line?"
others have noted this too
Sandra M (4)"you have to dodge a lot of 'we're walking 8 abreast for charity' folks."
hontonoshijin(12)"All of America has become stunningly tolerant of mediocrity. It is treated as the same as accomplishment. After all, I did my best!"
Buckeye Tim(7) "Imagine then that a movement comes along claiming that anyone can be a sculptor."
perhaps there's a gene for abstraction. if there is, you sure lack it!

It's time for Glenn Greenwald to write an investigative column on how Edward McClelland's fatuously self-congratulatory excuse for spewing O'Reillyesque slurs against Oprah and out-of-shape marathon runners managed to slip by the editors of Salon.

There has always been competition, but we have perverted its purpose. Mr. McClelland demonstrates it with precision. Competition originated not to have the pleasure of vanquishing another, the result of which is a winner and a loser, The purpose of competing was to raise the level of performance by joining together to (in this case) run with others of like ability. Such competitors wanted the other to do well, because it gave each the opportunity to excel.

A vestige of this spirit remains occasionally in a team scrimmage or friendly playground race, but is unrecognizable in the the ritual lines of team players passing each other with a disinterested handshake. This empty symbol is what we have left to remind us of what real competition was. Oh, and the "Olympic Games," called so to designate the fun and lighthearted way people once tested their mettle without losing or causing another to lose.

Several people here have posited that the decline of marathon speeds has to do with the paltry prizes. Shame on anyone who runs for money or bragging rights. That's not competition and it's not running. It is greed, ego gratification and showing off. The slow runners at the back are running primarily for running, which could be called a more pure form.

I once ran a marathon, twenty years ago. The race itself was awful because as a greenhorn I wasted energy through my own excitement, waving and calling out to well wishers while I misspent my limited resources.

I was tired by mile eleven, which was a great disappointment. Three weeks prior, I had run 27 miles, alone, without stopping. Eventually I was not just fatigued beyond comprehension; I was hungry, too. Even so, I ran all but maybe one mile. I sped slowly across the finish line with a transporting kind of joy.

It took me five hours and seven minutes.

In all that time I had not seen (nor interfered with the pace of) one elite runner. I admire them and I don't mind that I am not one of them. I have other talents which I doubt they would begrudge me. In any case, I don't care. Comparisons are useless at furthering anyone's cause. To make a point, I will make such a comparison here: I ran for five freaking hours. The front runners ran for_______ (fill in the blank). Guess what. I ran for longer than they did. I probably felt worse than they did, for more miles-and-hours. If they gave out prizes for that, I might get one. I don't want one. In the spirit of real competition, I was satisfied to raise my level of performance. No, not pace, but sheer endurance and guts. And, so what? I am not deluded it makes any difference to anyone else but me.

We at the back of the pack don't need prizes, or to be noticed or lauded. We run such a race for the experience of doing it, for besting our own time or distance, for charity (awful, isn't it?), to stretch our own limits, mental and emotional as well as physical. How stingey and undemocratic, never mind unsportsmanlike, to castigate us -- benign as we are -- so that he can – what – feel better about himself? Get punlished? It's lame and I wish for him a kinder heart.

I'm kind of glad to have got a bad knee and a fat ass; I needn't worry about bumping into Mr. McClelland.