With the NCAA’s March Madness at full fever, the spring marathon season is nearly upon us. Boston and London are just weeks away. The streets will be packed, the “Seven-Star” medals polished, and the participation boom will once again take center stage. London is even in advanced talks for a “Double London” two-day weekend in 2027 to accommodate another 50,000 from the staggering 1.13 million entry requests.
But beneath the celebration, something quieter is happening: the professional runner is disappearing as an iconic cultural figure. With the retirement of former marathon world record holder Eliud Kipchoge and yet another high-profile AIU ban announced today, no singular figure has risen to fill the vacuum of positive public recognition.
The math helps explains why.
In 2012, the Boston Marathon entry fee was $130 and the winner’s paycheck was $150,000—the highest public check among the Abbott World Marathon Majors.
In 2026, the Boston entry fee is $260, but the winner still gets $150,000. That is a 30% cut in real-world spending power over 14 years.
While every other major sport has exploded into the era of $300 million contracts and $3 million winner’s checks, the marathon has kept its elites sealed inside a financial time capsule.
The GOAT Debate: A Matter of Visibility, Not Ability
When sports fans argue about the “Greatest of All Time,” the names are always Jordan, Brady, Messi, LeBron. You almost never hear Ashton Eaton, Dan O’Brien, much less a distance runner like Eliud Kipchoge in a general-market conversation.
Why? Because GOAT debates aren’t actually about athletic ability and achievement. They’re about visibility and stakes.
A $50 million contract tells the public: This person matters. This performance has value.
A world indoor track champion running for $40,000—less than the luxury tax on a backup NBA point guard’s car—signals the opposite. The public doesn’t see a professional; they see a high-status hobbyist.
The Korir Ban: Desperation or Greed?
The five-year ban announced today (March 30, 2026) for Albert Korir—the 2021 NYC Marathon champion—is the perfect “gotcha” moment for critics. After testing positive for CERA (a synthetic EPO) in three separate samples, Korir’s results since last October, including his third-place finish at the 2025 NYC Marathon, have been erased.
“Why pay them more if they’re just going to cheat?” the critics ask. “We’ve been burned too many times.”
It’s true that over 140 Kenyan athletes are currently under sanction by the Athletics Integrity Unit (AIU). But now look at the economics. When the difference between first and tenth place at a Marathon Major is the difference between a career and a side hustle ($150K vs. $5,500 in Boston; $100,000 vs. $2000 in NYC), you aren’t just rewarding excellence—you’re incentivizing desperation.
We’ve built a closed loop:
• One Big Win can change a life!
• Steeply descending purses shrink the career window.
• The Big Win drive and shrinking window pushes athletes toward risk.
• Risk produces positives.
• Positives justify keeping purses low.
Meanwhile, race directors pivot to marketing the Seven-Star medal—a product that never tests positive and never generates a messy headline ten months later.
Don’t Be Naive
To those who insist that more money won’t fix doping, consider whether structure would. Do you think the NBA, MLB, or NFL are drug-free? Of course not. The difference is that those leagues are billion-dollar entertainment properties with the structure to manage their image and their athletes.
Running remains a loose confederation (at best)—not a regulated tour with a unified roster, centralized enforcement, and a professional ecosystem. By keeping prize money at 2012 levels—after essentially eliminating their two-year series prize in 2022—while every other metric in the sport has skyrocketed, the Majors aren’t “protecting” the sport. They’re signaling that they don’t believe their champions are worth the investment.
The Bottom Line
A sporting prize is a cultural flag, a signal. It tells the world: This skill matters. This athlete has merit.
By flying that flag at half-mast for fourteen years, the sport reinforces the perception that running isn’t worth paying attention to. In fact, the sport isn’t poor; it’s just opaque. There is real money for a small few—appearance fees and private bonuses—but that money is hidden, a relic of the “shamateur” era. Hidden money helps the athlete, but it does nothing for the sport’s public stature.
Until running builds a structure worthy of its athletes, it will keep losing them to invisibility, scandal, or silence, surfacing only when the next drug positive hits the wire.
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tonireavis.com 
Prize money could go to $ 1 million and no one would notice. But it would create a larger pool of athletes willing to do EPO. Win a big race and you are set!
Big city marathons are huge jogathons whose participants couldn’t care less who won. London is going to 2 days! So why should the race directors pour money into a dubious adventure.
And the comparisons with team sport is getting old now and pointless. Especially since those sports are driven these days more by gambling than anything else.
The present situation is probably ideal under present circumstances. The big marathons could dump prize money altogether and few would care.
Well said Toni but I suspect our sport will never have any increased visibility in regard to monetary incentives.You and I have witnessed over our long time in the sport that it’s certainly no longer about the professionals but more about making money to let everyone be a star (if they can afford it). Anyone can “run” a marathon or shorter distances if they can pay the price. I have removed myself from the craziness and greed. I put in over forty five years volunteering and running but the sport is not what it used to be. I am glad I was a part of the glory days but I fear they have gone. I still enjoy my daily runs.
Toni, thank you for saying out loud what needs to be said. Well articulated, and to the point. I wonder if the tide will ever turn.
Thank you Toni. Sometimes I think I must be crazy but then you come along and articulate the truth the heart of the matter. Never thought it would happen but I’ve lost interest in the Boston Marathon. To me it’s just a spectacle that’s lost its way.