Pheidippi-Did He?

2500+ years ago, a lone, haggard messenger arrived in Athens to announce the upset (but not upsetting) victory of the Greek army over the much larger invading force of Persians at the battle on the plains of Marathon. “Nike, Nike, Nenikekiam!!” (Rejoice, rejoice, we are victorious!!) he announced, before collapsing dead of exhaustion from his run of roughly 25 miles.

It’s an impressive story, and it inspired the first Olympic marathon in 1896, and can be blamed for the deaths of scores of runners from marathons run since that time; the mortality rate is something like 0.8 per 100,000 people, which means that each year, half a person dies during the New York City Marathon alone. This is surprising, because most people I’ve seen at the ends of marathons look half dead, so you’d think the full death rate would be much higher.

Pheidippides is the legendary runner who allegedly completed the marathon effort to report the Greek victory, dropping dead after delivering the good news. His heroic reporting was so much more impressive than Paul Revere’s little late-night horsey ride so many years later, because Paul used a horse and didn’t die on the spot, and he didn’t inspire the Kentucky Derby or any other sporting event that I know of. Paul Revere did inspire a Longfellow poem and is the name of a Beastie Boys song, but I think this is only because it’s easier to rhyme Revere than Pheidippides.

But I’m here today to tell you that it’s BS.

First of all, why was it so important for the messenger to race 25 miles to report a victory? Couldn’t he have paced himself a little better and relayed the same information an hour later without any loss of life? If he was being chased by the Persian army, I can understand it. But the story is that the Greeks had already won. The people of Athens believed in “aristeia” or “bestness”, which was kind of like a cross between Melania’s “be best” campaign and the old Army’s “be all you can be” slogan. Between the two, perhaps a runner would kill himself to deliver some good news, so that his peers could eulogize his best run, but most of us would probably have recommended he slow down and give us a few more details.

Second, would it be that impressive to have run 25 miles anyway, live or die? Plenty of people run marathons all the time. I’ve even done a few myself. The first one is definitely personally monumental, but so are a baby’s first steps. The Athenians were a lot more physically active than the average person today. They didn’t commute in cars or sit behind computers all day. Pretty sure running for a few hours would not have killed them. In fact, Pheidippides was a professional day-long runner, known as a “hemerodromos”. They were like bike messengers, without the bikes.

The father of history, Herodotus didn’t relate the history of Pheidi running 25 miles and collapsing “heroically.” Instead, he mentioned Pheidi being sent from Athens to ask their “friends” the Spartans to send help when the Persians landed a massive army in Marathon.

Some perspective here:

1. From Rockville MD, you could run a marathon to Reston VA. Assuming you took back roads and didn’t get run over, this would be a great effort!

2. From Rockville, you’d have to run to Philadelphia to match Pheidippides run to Sparta to ask for help. Only the run across Greece had more mountains in the way. It was approximately 140 miles away.

3. Put another way (for those not currently working in Rockville), a marathon is around 105 laps around the track. The trip to Sparta was roughly 560 laps, in the heat of summer, over rough terrain, without maps or lights or rest stops or nip guards or Nikes.

Pheidippides didn’t run a mere 25 miles. He covered over five times that distance, arriving in Sparta the next day, where he delivered the request for help. Upon hearing the Spartan answer, he rested up for the night, then set off the next morning back to Athens to relay the response. In Athens, he was told that the citizen-militia had already headed to Marathon, so he tacked on an extra 25 miles to finish the job. Instead of running from here to Reston, try running to Philly and back first. 305 miles in four or five days is pretty good (call it 1220 laps). And there’s nothing to suggest that he then died on the spot, though he is long dead by now.

His brothers in arms likely welcomed their tired hemerodromoi boy with open arms and a questioning look of “Bro, welcome back, but where’s the Spartan army you were supposed to rouse?”

“Good news and bad news. The good news is that the mighty warriors of Sparta agreed that they will come to our aid to help ward off the invading Persian savages! The bad news is that they said that they can’t engage in any military efforts until the next full moon, because it’ll piss off one of the gods or something. They’ll be here sometime next week.” (This is not an exact translation).

Around this same time, another messenger made a much shorter trip across the looming battlefield to tell the Athenians that the Persians planned to pack up half their forces and sneak around to Athens proper, in order to sack the city while its soldiers were idling in Marathon. Even half the Persian army was still more than twice the size of the Athenian contingent, but the home team came up with a bold plan and attacked anyway, surprising the Persians and kicking their asses, to the tune of 6400 dead Persians versus 192 dead Greeks.

They assigned some people to stay behind to care for the wounded and dead, while the rest of the soldiers were sent on a speed-march back to Athens to protect the city from the fleet of Persians that were already heading that way. This was the true marathon effort of some 6000 men each carrying sixty plus pounds of shields, armor and weapons, in the heat of August after having just waged some gruesome battle all morning. They arrived along the coast before the invaders, who saw the glinting bronze shields on the cliffs above and realized that the undefended capital was actually well-defended and decided to pack it in and not try again for another ten years. This was the first time the unbeatable Persian army was ever beaten, and it was possibly a key moment of preservation for the democratic system of government that was in its infancy in Athens.

There was no report of a fragile messenger delivering the message of victory in the original history. This little part of the tale was written some thousand years later (likely made up by an early Nike rep), and it seems to have outshined the more impressive reality.

To recap, Pheidippides didn’t run a marathon and die. So why are we including marathons in the Olympics? There is a race in Greece that tries to retrace his heroic run from Athens to Sparta. It is the Spartathlon, a 153-mile foot race (slightly longer than the original route, but this is driven by highways that have sprung up in the last two thousand years). Comparing the 28 Olympic marathons that have taken place since 1896 to the 36 Spartathlons that have been run since 1983, I found that there have been 17 marathons decided by a minute or less, versus only 14 Spartathlons where the silver medalist was within an hour of the victor. In other words, beyond 26 miles, the races are a lot less exciting for the crowds. Also, isn’t it selling Pheidi short that the modern race only covers the first half of his journey? Bunch of wimps, if you ask him. (FYI, my analysis was only based on men’s results, because that’s all the Greeks cared about and because I’m lazy).

If we discount Pheidippides deeds as not a real marathon (since the event did not exist in his day and there were no medals or wreaths or any other prizes for his run(s)), then who is the real first marathoner? One could argue that Spyridon Louis, the Greek shepherd who won the first modern Olympic marathon in 1896 should be credited. However, the distance of this first “marathon” was only roughly 25 miles. Ditto for the 1897 Boston Marathon and other ensuing events. It wasn’t until 1908 in the London Olympics that the universally recognized, official marathon distance of 26 miles 385 yards (or 26.2 miles) was first established (though not officially adopted until some years later). And who gets credit for winning this race? Although Italian candy-maker Dorando Pietri was the first to cross the finish line, after dramatically entering the stadium in front and proceeding around the track, collapsing multiple times and being helped to his feet only to fall again, before being finally ushered across the line before being taken to the hospital (he was exhausted and laced with strychnine, which was an old-time performance enhancer and modern poison), Pietri was disqualified for receiving assistance. Next in line was the American runner, Johnny Hayes, bringing home the Gold for good ole USA!!

What are my points?

1. Pheidippides did not run a marathon and die. He ran some ultramarathons and democracy lives.

2. Spartans were a bunch of warrior jerks. Don’t ever pick Michigan State in your bracket.

3. The Spartathlon sounds like a miserable run. It’s ridiculously hard, yet it only covers half of what Pheidippides did alone 2500 years ago.

4. USA can boast of the first true marathoner. We should just bask in the glory from 1908. Thanks Johnny Hayes!

5. Don’t drink strychnine cocktails.

References:

I went to the original source, Mr. Herodotus himself, but it was all Greek to me. I don’t speak (or read) Greek. I tried a translation (much more understandable), but it was still like reading the bible. A bunch of old guys fathered other guys who fought and cheated and did weird things for their god(s). Not a fun read. I’d rather watch Troy than read The Iliad, so my lack of appreciation for the classics should not be surprising.

Richard Billows wrote “Marathon: How One Battle Changed Western Civilization.” I feel like Billows plays the butterfly effect with this important battle, suggesting that if it had gone differently, the world would be a much different place today. Sure. Same can be said for key battles from the Revolutionary War or Civil War, or World Wars. But would it mean that democracy would never have developed if the Persians had conquered Athens? Perhaps, but not necessarily. Imagine if the Persian Empire conquered Athens: Iran might today be a nuclear threat; Greece might be bankrupt; the US might be ruled by an angry despot who cared not a whit about the Constitution; marathon runners might not be the most popular athletes in the world… I wonder if you can. Setting aside the dramatics, Billows ably covered the critical info I couldn’t find myself in Herodotus, because I am too lazy.

Speaking of dramatic, Dean Karnazes wrote “The Road to Sparta: Reliving the Ancient Battle and Epic Run that Inspired the World’s Greatest Footrace.” Karno gets a lot of flak for being a boastful opportunist. His humblebrags are countless. (Dean’s relaying of his race conversation with a friend that assured him that he (DK) had done more for the sport of running than anyone ever was particularly charming). Still, his story about how he was going to honor his Greek heritage by recreating Pheidippides’ run was a much more engaging tale than the dry histories, even if it did feel like he was converting to Greek just for the story. Dean ran the 2014 Spartathlon. He also told the tale of Pheidippides in much better depth than I just did. If you want an easier read for more detail and can look past the parts about how great Karno is (skipping these parts, you can probably read the book in about twenty minutes), then I recommend it.

Read my readers and you shall see

The recent retelling of Pheidippides

About his four-day run to Sparta and back

To thwart the pending Persian attack

The invaders arrived on the Marathon shore

To take over Attica and end democracy for sure

The Greeks kind of liked the freedom in their lives

Excluding their slaves and mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives.

They sent out their runner, a guy named Phei

To get the help of their Spartan ally

Thirty-six hours later he would arrive there

None the worse for his 140 miles of wear and tear.

The Spartan warriors trained from the age of seven

They were seriously cranked, like up to eleven

They were also a bunch of self-serving jerks

Whose subjects were forced to do all the work.

Pheidippides said “please, we need you now, don’t be late!”

Sparta said “sure, we’ll be right there, but what’s the date?”

“Guys, let’s go”, Phei said, not a moment too soon

But the Spartans said “we’ll leave next full moon.”

Meanwhile in Athens they marched to the Marathon plain

To witness the massive invasive force they hoped to contain

Their hoplites were many, and ready for war

The Persians were ready too, and were many, many more.

Awaiting reinforcements, they received a single guy

Phei came with the disappointing Spartan reply

“They’ll be here later, when the moon meets their mood”

“Shit!” thought the Greeks, this isn’t good.

“Shoot the messenger!” Pheidippes pleaded

After 300 miles, death was sorely needed.

“So you ran a dozen marathons, kudos to you

Now pick up your shield and spear, there’s real work to do.”

What did you expect?

Runners never get any respect.

 — Shortfellow