[Editor's note: Patrick Makau set a new world record in the marathon on Sept. 25 in Berlin with a 2:03:38 effort. We've pulled this story from our archives to give a glimpse of his fast ascent.]
Best Running Shoes 2025. He's the third-fastest half marathoner in history (58:52) and the fourth-fastest marathoner ever (2:04:48); the latter mark is true after only four tries at the distance. He's been named "Mr. Consistent" by the press for his predictably great performances. He's not afraid to carry the pace, he's brilliant in a kick to the line, and he's only 25. He knows how to win, having prevailed at Rotterdam last April and then again at Berlin in September. But that's not why I think he'll soon be the fastest marathoner of all time.
It's because of the way he says it.
After his most recent marathon, a blazing 2:05:08 win over the rain-soaked streets of Berlin, the press conference was abuzz of what could have been. If it hadn't been cold and it hadn't been windy, if he hadn't had calf cramps and wet socks bunched all the way down to the toes of his flats, how fast could he have gone? Makau answered the questions patiently and directly, always taking time to think.
"Were you capable of a world record today?" shouted a voice over the murmuring of the crowd. Makau slouched into his microphone, propped both elbows on the table, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course."
Makau began running with a goal of lifting himself and his family from the poverty of rural Kenya. He had seen even minimal success, he says, change people's lives. "I saw how they had developed their families and how their names are heard on the radio and printed in newspapers, and I wanted to be like them," he says. With so few options available to a poor rural Kenyan, the only chance he felt he had was on the strength of his own two legs. "There was nothing else for me to do," he says, and so he ran. Of course, in a country that reveres its distance runners as national heroes, every other boy had the same idea.
A nation of inspired young athletes has bred fierce competition, which has resulted in further excellence in the sport. Whole communities swell with pride for the success of their distance runners. Training camps and schools cater to juniors, providing food and housing and whatever else a young athlete may need to meet his or her potential. In running-crazed locales like Eldoret and Iten, the world is available to those with the talent and the drive. Future stars train side-by-side, guided by experienced coaches and inspired by the constant presence of those who have succeeded before them.
Makau, however, is from a different sort of city. He was born in the eastern part of the country, where it's hotter and drier and lower in altitude, where there are a series of tiny villages and sustenance farms.
Unlike in the Rift Valley highlands, not many people there run and, though it's not all that far from those heralded training capitals, it seems very far away. While his contemporaries were training together to the cheers of a nation, Makau trained alone.
Nearly a decade into his unlikely ascent to the top of the distance-running world, Makau hasn't swayed from the beliefs that led him there. He trusts the work, he doesn't make excuses. When he wins, it's because of the training, and when he doesn't, he hasn't worked hard enough. His frankness is refreshing in a sport where cards are generally kept close to the chest. And his quiet, unassuming confidence is infectious.
Makau isn't a man to make empty promises. It's not his style. He won't sing and dance for a headline. He won't even smile for a picture unless he's got something to smile about. So, when the ever-understated Patrick Makau predicts a world record, something special's bound to happen.
His next chance -- and our next chance to be awed by his fearless prowess -- will come at April's London Marathon.
Julia Lucas is a retired professional runner with a personal 5,000 meter best of 15:08, and she’s writer and a coach in New York City, currently at work on her first book.
