After the thrill of running the Boston Marathon, I did not slow down. The following month, I set my sights on a different kind of goal: helping my friend James break the four-hour barrier in the marathon — a target that had eluded him despite his grit and training.
James and I had logged plenty of miles together. He was a bigger guy, consistently over 200 pounds, running in the “Clydesdale” division. The idea of weight categories in running was still relatively new in the 2000s, but James wore it well. His commitment and attitude inspired everyone around him. For James, the journey was not just about speed. It was about proving to himself what he could do with the right training and a friend at his side.
When we lined up at the start of the Ottawa Marathon, both of us were excited. James had trained harder than ever. For me, it was a privilege to give back — to help pace someone as motivated and tough as James.
Pacing is not just standing beside someone. It is doing the math, watching the splits, clearing the way at drink stations, and keeping the encouragement flowing. You are the steady drip of motivation, always one step ahead with a gel or a joke. We committed to a 5:30-per-kilometer pace, aiming for a finish around 3:50. All I needed James to do was hold steady, trust the plan, and hang on.
All the while, I kept one eye on James and another on nutrition, hydration, and warning signs. Bonking can sneak up on anyone — the sudden energy crash where the mind gets cloudy and the legs get heavy. I watched for it, ready with a gel and encouragement anytime he slowed or seemed lost in the numbers.
As we neared the finish, I would sometimes run ahead, scanning the road and keeping James in my sights. With our names on our bibs, spectators were cheering for me, not knowing I was pacing James — that it was all about him. I started flipping my bib inside out so they could focus on the real star. And James was crushing it, digging deep in the final kilometers.
With two kilometers to go, I knew we had his sub-four-hour goal locked. James found that extra gear. When he crossed the finish line — smashing his goal by five minutes with a 3:55 finish — I experienced a kind of pride I had never felt in any race I ran for myself. Watching him break through, seeing his joy, was more rewarding than any personal finish. That day is still James's marathon PR, and we both laugh and high-five about it to this day.
That Ottawa Marathon taught me something I have seen confirmed hundreds of times since: you gain endurance by giving it away.
The principle works in business exactly the same way.
Mentorship fuels your own clarity.
When you coach someone through a problem, you are forced to articulate principles you might otherwise take for granted. Pacing James made me a sharper runner because I had to think about the race differently — not for myself, but for someone else. Teaching is thinking out loud. It sharpens your own understanding.
Generosity builds trust faster than competence.
People remember how you made them feel. The leader who shows up for a struggling colleague, who gives credit freely, who flips their bib inside out so someone else gets the spotlight — that leader builds the kind of trust that holds teams together when things get hard.
Givers attract givers.
Your network will mirror your behavior. If you operate transactionally, you attract transactional relationships. If you lead with generosity, you attract people who do the same. Over time, this compounds into a community that sustains you through the miles you cannot finish alone.
I do not know a single 100-marathon finisher who did it alone. The road is too long. The days are too hard. You need people. And the best way to build that network is to be the person who helps first — the one who flips the bib.
Read more about the Givers Gain philosophy in One Step Forward.
