Why We Cross the Finish Line… and Then Collapse

Last weekend I ran the Sydney Marathon. Why? Not because I’m secretly a marathoner at heart, but because I wanted to be part of something big — an international sporting event buzzing with energy. At five foot two, I’d say my chances of making the NBL or the Australian high-jump team are slim to none, so this felt like my moment.

And Sydney didn’t disappoint. The atmosphere was electric, the weather glorious, and the organisation spot-on. Public transport ran like clockwork, volunteers cheered with gusto, and signage made it impossible to get lost in a city that was bursting at the seams.

The crowd support? Magic. I know the signs said things like “Go Mum!” and “You can do this!” — but in my mind, they were written just for me. Kids held up glittery posters, strangers yelled encouragement, and even the cheeky “Don’t trust a fart” sign made me laugh. Those guys are the ones you’d want to have a beer with after the race.

But here’s what really fascinated me: not the marathon itself (which was a pinch-me moment, truly), not even the post-race high (endorphins better than any nightclub pill, I swear). What got me was the sight of nearly 39,000 people who, after running 42.2km, suddenly began hobbling like they were 90 years old. Some collapsed. Some cramped. Most of us could barely lift our arms high enough to collect our medals.

It made me wonder — how can humans push themselves to superhuman effort one second, and then be reduced to jelly legs the next?

The Brain as Bodyguard

Sports scientists call this the central governor theory. Your brain is like a protective parent, constantly pulling the reins so you don’t damage yourself. During a race, adrenaline, competition, and willpower drown out those “slow down” signals. But the second you cross the line, the brain lets its guard down, and your body finally crumples under the exhaustion it’s been holding back.

The Adrenaline Crash

While racing, adrenaline is your best friend. It keeps your blood pressure up, your focus sharp, and your body firing on all cylinders. Cross the line, and those stress hormones plummet. Blood pressure drops, and you’re suddenly light-headed, wondering if lying down right there in the gutter is an acceptable option.

Blood Pooling Blues

When you’re moving, your muscles are pumping blood back to the heart like a second circulation system. Stop suddenly, and that pump disappears. Blood pools in your legs, your brain gets less oxygen, and dizziness or collapse is your body’s unsubtle way of saying: “Lie down before you fall down.”

Out of Fuel

Let’s not forget energy systems. Push hard enough, and you can literally drain your quick-access energy stores. That “running on empty” feeling isn’t just a metaphor — sometimes there’s nothing left in the tank.

Mind Over Muscle

And of course, there’s the psychology. Humans are goal-driven creatures. As long as the finish line is ahead, we’ll dig deeper than we think possible. But once the medal’s around our neck, the mental drive vanishes and the body finally says, “Phew, thank goodness that’s over.”

What It Really Means

Collapse after a big effort isn’t weakness — it’s biology. The brain, hormones, circulation, and energy systems are all designed to push you far, but not too far. They’ll let you dance on the edge, but only because they know you’ll survive to tell the story.

And here’s the thing: in midlife, it can feel like those limits come sooner. Stiff joints, slower recovery, fatigue that bites harder than it used to. But those very same protective systems that make elite marathoners collapse are also what keep you safe.

When you train smart — lifting heavy to strengthen bone, using bands to keep joints mobile, working your heart and lungs with purpose — you build a body that doesn’t just get through the race, it thrives in the recovery too.

At Wonder Woman Fitness, we celebrate that sweet spot: respecting your limits but discovering you’re capable of far more than you imagined. Because the finish line isn’t the end — it’s proof of what your body, at any stage of life, can achieve.

Beyond the Finish Line

And when the festival is over, the bollards packed away, the volunteers head home and the glittery signs are folded up, those who climbed that mountain walk away with something even bigger than a medal. They know they stayed consistent, stuck to the plan, showed up when it was hard, and challenged themselves until they won. Because in the end, the real race isn’t 42.2 kilometres — it’s the lifelong marathon of health, strength, and mobility. And that’s a race worth training for every single day.