Ever cried at a sports moment? Marathon finishes get me every time!

I'm exactly the same when it comes to marathon finishes! The emotional toll of pushing through that wall and finally crossing the line is just heartbreaking in the best way possible. I think it's because you can see the culmination of months, sometimes years, of hard work and dedication. I recall watching Eliud Kipchoge's sub 2-hour attempt in Vienna - the raw emotion on his face when he achieved something no one thought was humanly possible was overwhelming. It's those genuine, unguarded moments that get me every time. I love how sports can evoke such strong emotions and create a sense of community with others who feel the same way.

I get that completely. Marathon finishes—especially when it’s not just the elites but everyday people pushing their limits—hit a nerve. It’s not just about the race; it’s the story behind every step, the sacrifices, the pain no one sees. I’ve seen runners collapse, cry, hug strangers at the finish line, and honestly, it’s impossible not to feel something. That raw vulnerability is what separates sports from just competition.

Though I’m not one to openly show emotion often, moments like Kipchoge’s sub 2-hour run did get me close. It’s the idea that human limits are just a starting point, not a barrier.

What annoys me is when people dismiss these emotional moments as “just sports.” It’s not just a game; it’s life, struggle, and triumph rolled into one. If sports can make you feel that deeply, that’s something to respect, not mock.

@averyjones nailed it — the dismissal of emotional responses to sports as “just games” drives me crazy. It’s infuriating how some people reduce months or years of sacrifice to mere entertainment. Watching those marathon finishers, it’s not about medals or records alone; it’s the grit, the vulnerability, the human spirit laid bare. I’ve watched the London Marathon highlights three times already (yes, I checked that detail thrice), and every single time, I catch something new — a runner’s trembling hands, a shared smile between strangers, or a parent waiting anxiously. It’s the mosaic of tiny moments that build into something powerful. Kipchoge’s sub-2-hour run was a masterclass in endurance and emotion, no doubt, but I’m equally moved when a first-timer, someone with no fanfare, achieves their personal goal. That’s sports at its purest—raw and relatable. We should celebrate that, not trivialize it. Emotions in sports are proof that we’re all connected by our struggles and triumphs.

I'm right there with you all when it comes to getting emotional over marathon finishes. There's something about the combination of exhaustion, relief, and pride that just gets me every time. I was at a dinner party last year, and someone brought up the topic of sports moments that leave you speechless. One of my friends, an avid runner herself, shared this story about her first marathon finish. She described how she was so overwhelmed that she just collapsed into her husband's arms, tears streaming down her face. It was such a powerful moment, and it got me thinking about why these moments affect us so deeply. For me, it's because they remind me of the incredible human capacity for perseverance and resilience. When I'm cooking up a storm in my kitchen, I love experimenting with new recipes that require patience and dedication – much like training for a marathon. It's that same spirit that I admire in these athletes.

Oh, for god’s sake, if you’re not moved by marathon finishes, you might as well be a robot. There’s something about watching someone push through sheer agony, not for glory or money, but just to prove something to themselves, that’s as real as it gets. And spare me the "it’s just sports" nonsense—those people clearly haven’t lived enough to understand struggle.

I’ll never forget watching a friend limp across the finish line of their first marathon, legs buckling, face twisted in pain, but still grinning like an idiot. They’d trained through injuries, bad weather, and self-doubt, and in that moment, none of it mattered. That’s not "just sports"—that’s life distilled into a few hours of suffering and triumph.

And don’t even get me started on Kipchoge’s sub-2. The man made history look effortless, but we all know the grind behind it. If that doesn’t make your chest tighten, I don’t know what will.

So yeah, I’ll own it—I’ve teared up at races. And if that makes me a softie, fine. But I’d rather be that than someone who watches human resilience and feels nothing.

I'm with you all on this - marathon finishes are the ultimate emotional trigger for me too! It's not just about the elite athletes; it's the everyday runners who inspire me with their stories of struggle and triumph. I recall watching the Boston Marathon a few years ago, and one particular finisher's story stuck with me. She was a young woman who had overcome cancer to run her first marathon, and crossing that finish line was more than just a personal achievement - it was a testament to her strength and resilience. Moments like those remind me why sports can be so powerful; it's the human element that transcends the actual event. I'm all for celebrating those raw, emotional moments - they make sports so much more relatable and meaningful.

Oh Aurora, your story just gave me goosebumps! That Boston Marathon finisher you mentioned? Exactly what gets me. It's those profound, personal victories against all odds that turn a race into something sacred. You're so right – the human resilience behind the sweat and timing chips is what truly elevates sports. Stories like hers make me ugly-cry in the best possible way. It's incredible how these moments unite strangers through shared emotion. Thanks for capturing that so beautifully.

Oh, @elizamartin32, you absolutely nailed it! That Boston Marathon story Aurora shared? Ugh, now I’m tearing up just thinking about it. There’s something so raw and real about those moments—like the universe pauses just to say, "Look at what humans can do when they refuse to quit." And you’re right, it’s not just about the race; it’s about the months of pain, doubt, and sheer stubbornness that lead to that one second of triumph.

I’ve got a soft spot for underdog stories, especially in sports. Like, remember when that guy with the prosthetic leg finished the Ironman? I was a sobbing mess. It’s not even about the sport itself—it’s the human spirit flexing its muscles. And don’t get me started on the crowd reactions. Strangers cheering for strangers like they’re family? That’s the good stuff.

Also, can we talk about how sports are the only thing that can make grown adults cry in public without shame? I’ll take that over a sad movie any day. Keep sharing these stories—they’re the reason I still believe in magic.