I’ve toed a lot of start lines. Some cool and calm. Some loud and wild. I’ve cramped, laughed, and yes, cried under a finish arch or two. These are the races that stuck with me long after my shoes dried. I ran them. I felt them. Here’s what mattered.
For a deeper, course-by-course breakdown—travel hacks, training tweaks, and gear notes—check out my full Popdex rundown I Ran Them: My Take on the Best Marathons in the US.
Quick note: I’m a mid-pack runner who likes steady splits, decent logistics, and a good post-race snack. I care about crowd support, clean aid stations, and bathrooms that don’t make you cry.
A Quick Cheat Sheet (Because We’re All Busy)
- Best overall vibe: New York City Marathon
- Best shot at a PR: Chicago Marathon or CIM (Sacramento)
- Most heart: Boston Marathon and Marine Corps Marathon
- Prettiest course: Big Sur and Grandma’s (Duluth)
- Best for first-timers: Houston and Walt Disney World
See? Easy. But the stories matter too. Let me tell you what it actually felt like.
For an ever-updating pulse on what runners are talking about—from shoe drops to course changes—check out Popdex, a handy dashboard of the most-shared endurance headlines.
New York City Marathon — Five Boroughs, One Giant Smile
I started on the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge with a view that felt like a movie. The first mile climbs. The second mile drops. Then Brooklyn hits you with cheers that don’t quit. I got goosebumps on First Avenue. Real ones. The Queensboro Bridge is quiet, but the noise in your head can be loud. Then the crowd roars again in Manhattan, and you forget your legs for a minute.
Aid stations were smooth. The volunteers were pros. I sipped water and Gatorade and tried not to get sticky. Central Park will punch you with a little hill late, but the finish feels huge. I cried a tiny bit. Not sorry.
Best part: the energy. Worst part: that long walk after the finish. My calves were mad. Worth it.
Chicago Marathon — Flat, Fast, and Friendly
If you want speed, this course helps you earn it. Chicago runs flat through 29 neighborhoods, and the turns keep your brain awake. Weather can swing. One year I wore gloves. The next year I baked a little. But the race itself? Tight ship.
I met my pace group at mile two and stayed tucked in, like a little metronome. Water every mile or so. Clear signs. Nice gels. The only tricky thing is tall buildings can mess with your GPS. Don’t freak out. Watch your effort. You’ll be fine.
Best part: perfect PR setup. Worst part: if it gets warm, it gets real.
Boston Marathon — The One That Gives You Chills
You earn this one. I ran a BQ at CIM and then took that dream to Hopkinton. The buses, the buzz, the blue and yellow—it all feels bigger than just a race.
The course drops early, and that’s the trap. Your quads will talk later. The Newton Hills start when your brain gets tired. Heartbreak Hill is not a mountain, but it hits at the wrong time. I grabbed orange slices from a kid and felt like I’d found gold. Wellesley Scream Tunnel? It’s loud. Like, can’t-hear-your-thoughts loud.
History buffs might appreciate that same sense of tradition off the course too—my travel bag always holds one of the picks from this list of the 10 best U.S. history textbooks for a quick refresher on the stories that shaped the route.
Best part: history and hugs from strangers. Worst part: late hills on beat-up legs. Still, it’s Boston. You feel proud the whole way.
Marine Corps Marathon (DC) — Semper Fi and So Much Heart
This race made me tear up at the start. Marines lined the course. The flag. The quiet moments by the monuments. You run past Lincoln and the Mall, and you feel small in a good way.
Be ready for the 14th Street Bridge. There’s not much shade, and it can feel long. But the finish by the Marine Corps War Memorial is powerful. A Marine saluted me at the end. I still have that mental photo.
Best part: service and honor everywhere. Worst part: late bridge slog if it’s warm. Hydrate early.
California International Marathon (CIM, Sacramento) — The BQ Factory
Point-to-point from Folsom to Sacramento. Net downhill, with early rollers that keep it honest. I ran steady, then picked it up, and nailed a negative split for the first time. I still brag about it, a tiny bit.
The pace groups are strong, and the finish near the Capitol is clean and fast. This one is a serious race, but not cold or stiff. The crowd is kind. The weather, in December, is usually crisp. I wore arm sleeves and never took them off.
Best part: textbook course for time goals. Worst part: those early rollers can mess with you if you go too hot.
Grandma’s Marathon (Duluth) — Lake, Fog, and Lemon Drop Hill
This one is pure. You ride a train or a bus up to Two Harbors, then run back along Lake Superior. Some years there’s sun. I got fog. Cool air, quiet roads, and waves in the corner of my eye. It felt like a long, steady exhale.
Lemon Drop Hill near mile 22 sneaks up on you. It’s not huge, but it stings late. The finish in Canal Park is cozy and fun. I ate a post-race donut, and I swear it was the best one of my life. Was I hungry? Yes. Still counts.
Best part: calm beauty and good logistics. Worst part: weather is moody. Pack layers.
Big Sur International Marathon — Beauty That Makes You Forget the Burn (Almost)
Highway 1 with cliffs and ocean and wind that loves your face. The pianist at Bixby Bridge plays while you run by. It’s wild. It’s also hard. Long climbs. Cambered road. Headwind that argues with you.
I treated it like a long, hilly joy run. No time goals. Just steady breathing and views for days. If you need a PR, pick a different race. If you need to feel alive, this is it.
And if those Pacific vistas spark a craving for an even warmer island escape, here’s my guide to picking the right paradise with the best island to travel to in Hawaii based on real, sandy-toed experience.
Best part: the view and the vibe. Worst part: the grades. Respect the hills.
Houston Marathon — Smooth, Cool, and Very PR-Friendly
January race, flat course, strong pace teams, and a finish line party that’s warm and real. I liked the expo, the morning flow, and the aid stations. It felt like a big race run by people who care about small things.
The weather can be humid, but I got a cool morning and cashed in. I taped a gel to my bib and never lost it. Tiny win, big smile.
Best part: fast course with helpful volunteers. Worst part: if it’s muggy, bring salt and patience.
Walt Disney World Marathon — Early Alarms, Big Joy
Let’s talk 2:30 a.m. wake-up. Oof. But the buses are on time, the course runs through the parks, and people stop for character photos in full costume. I kept my pace easy and hammed it up. Honestly, it felt like a long costume party with water stops.
Florida humidity is real. Start slow and sip often. The medals are fun, and the vibe is pure cheer. If it’s your first marathon, this is a soft place to land—if you’re okay with the early start.
Best part: joy on tap. Worst part: sleep schedule chaos.
Twin Cities Marathon — Lakes, Leaves, and a Finish That Tests You
Minneapolis to Saint Paul, lakes and parkways and trees that glow in fall. This one feels like home, even if you’re not from there. The grade is gentle until late, then there’s a climb by the cathedral before you roll down to the Capitol. It’s fair, not mean.
I tucked into a small pack by the river, listened to our shoes, and let the miles click. Sometimes quiet is nice. Not every race needs fireworks.
Best part: classic Midwestern charm and scenery. Worst part: late rise before the finish can bite.
How I Judge a Marathon (And What I Learned)
- Start logistics: Are the buses smooth? Are the bathrooms stocked?
- Aid stations: Clear, safe, and spaced well. I like water first, sports drink second.
- Course truth: Does the map match the day? Hills where they said?
- Safety and space: Can I run my line without boxing out ten people