Breaking a world record is the pinnacle of achievement—a moment that should be met with universal acclaim.
However, recent events have highlighted a stark contrast in how such feats are received.
When Ruth Chepngetich shattered the marathon world record with a time of 2:09:56 at the 2024 Chicago Marathon, her accomplishment was met with skepticism and allegations of doping.
In contrast, Jacob Kiplimo’s half marathon world record of 56:42, set at the 2025 Barcelona Half Marathon, was celebrated with minimal controversy.
This disparity raises important questions. Why the difference? What does this tell us about the biases and assumptions deeply embedded in professional running (and, well, society as a whole)?
The Record Itself: Too Big a Jump?
Chepngetich didn’t just break the record—she obliterated it, taking nearly two minutes off the previous mark. That’s the kind of improvement that turns heads and raises eyebrows.
The last time a women’s marathon record was broken by such a margin was in 2003 when Paula Radcliffe ran 2:15:25, shaving 1:53 off the previous mark in one shot (and breaking her own mark from the previous year). That performance then stood for 16 years.
By comparison, men’s marathon records have fallen by much smaller margins in recent decades.
But Kiplimo’s performance was just as shocking—he lopped 48 seconds off the half marathon world record, something that not long ago seemed impossible.
Looking at historical trends, men’s records have generally seen steady but incremental progress, while women’s records have seen more dramatic jumps at specific points.
Men’s Marathon World Record Progression (2000–2025)
| Time | Athlete | Date | Location |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2:06:05 | Khalid Khannouchi (USA) | April 14, 2002 | London, UK |
| 2:04:55 | Paul Tergat (KEN) | September 28, 2003 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:04:26 | Haile Gebrselassie (ETH) | September 30, 2007 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:03:59 | Haile Gebrselassie (ETH) | September 28, 2008 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:03:38 | Patrick Makau (KEN) | September 25, 2011 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:03:23 | Wilson Kipsang (KEN) | September 29, 2013 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:02:57 | Dennis Kipruto Kimetto (KEN) | September 28, 2014 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:01:39 | Eliud Kipchoge (KEN) | September 16, 2018 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:01:09 | Eliud Kipchoge (KEN) | September 25, 2022 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:00:35 | Kelvin Kiptum (KEN) | October 8, 2023 | Chicago, USA |
Women’s Marathon World Record Progression (2000–2025)
| Time | Athlete | Date | Location |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2:19:46 | Naoko Takahashi (JPN) | September 30, 2001 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:18:47 | Catherine Ndereba (KEN) | October 7, 2001 | Chicago, USA |
| 2:17:18 | Paula Radcliffe (GBR) | October 13, 2002 | Chicago, USA |
| 2:15:25 | Paula Radcliffe (GBR) | April 13, 2003 | London, UK |
| 2:14:04 | Brigid Kosgei (KEN) | October 13, 2019 | Chicago, USA |
| 2:11:53 | Tigst Assefa (ETH) | September 24, 2023 | Berlin, Germany |
| 2:09:56 | Ruth Chepngetich (KEN) | October 13, 2024 | Chicago, USA |
Is this because of technological advances, better training methods, or simply because women’s distance running is still evolving at a different rate?
Are we simply unprepared for women to make these kinds of leaps? Have we been conditioned to expect slow, incremental progress from female athletes while men are allowed to redefine what’s possible?
Familiarity Breeds Trust
One major factor here is visibility.
Kiplimo, an Olympic medalist and consistent presence on the elite running circuit, has been in the spotlight for years, since he was literally a child. He’s personable, well-liked, and his training has been documented.
He has major sponsorships, including a long-term deal with Nike, and has competed in high-profile races with extensive media coverage.
People feel like they “know” him.
Chepngetich? Not so much.
Despite being a former world champion and a dominant marathoner, she hasn’t received the same media attention or sponsorship backing, although she is also a Nike athlete.
How Brands Influence How Much We Trust An Athlete
Brands and individuals build trust with an audience through consistency, storytelling, and social proof.
When a runner breaks a world record, our reaction is often influenced by how much trust we’ve already built in that athlete’s story.
If they’re well-known, well-marketed, and have a compelling personality, we’re more likely to celebrate their success rather than question it.
Why Do We Trust Certain Athletes More?
- Familiarity & Repetition – The more we see an athlete, the more we feel like we “know” them. Big brands and social media presence keep them in front of us, making them seem like a part of our world.
- Emotional Connection – Athletes with strong personalities or compelling backstories make us root for them. When they succeed, we feel like we succeed too.
- Social Proof & Endorsements – If an athlete has major sponsorships, training footage with respected coaches, and public praise from other elite runners, they seem more credible. Brands that sponsor them effectively “vouch” for their legitimacy.
- Past Transparency & Authenticity – If an athlete has a history of being open about their training, challenges, and achievements, we’re less likely to suspect foul play. Those who are more private or unknown may face more skepticism simply because we don’t have as much context on them.
- The Power of Narratives – If media and brands have already framed an athlete as “the future of the sport” or a “hardworking grinder,” we naturally filter new information through that lens. When they break records, it feels expected rather than suspicious.
Why Lesser-Known Athletes Face More Skepticism
- Lack of Context – If we don’t know much about an athlete’s training or background, their success can seem sudden and unnatural, making us question if it’s real.
- No Brand Validation – Without major sponsorships or public recognition, people may assume they don’t have the same level of oversight, making doping or other shortcuts seem more plausible.
- Surprise Factor – If someone outside the established elite suddenly smashes records, it disrupts expectations, which often leads to doubt before celebration.
For example, Nike has extensively promoted Eliud Kipchoge, building a brand around his dominance, while Chepngetich has not been given the same level of visibility.
When Kipchoge ran 1:59 in a controlled setting, the world was in awe. When Chepngetich ran 2:09 in a real race, the world was suspicious.
Why? Is it because Nike and other sponsors have invested in making us trust and admire male athletes, but haven’t done the same for women?
The Kenya Effect: Guilt by Association?
Kenya’s recent history with doping violations can’t be ignored.
For years, African countries like Kenya have been at the heart of endurance running, producing some of the most extraordinary talents the world has ever seen. Their runners have dominated global competitions, setting a standard of excellence that no other region has come close to matching.
In the last 10 World Athletics Championships, East African (predominantly Kenyan) athletes have taken home nearly 200 medals, roughly 13% of the total.
These runners were once celebrated as the epitome of clean talent. Their success is often credited to the unique combination of high-altitude environment, culture, and upbringing that shaped them.
But in recent years, that legacy has been overshadowed by a growing number of doping cases involving Kenyan athletes.
This surge in scandals raised tough questions about corruption within governing bodies, athlete management, and even healthcare systems. Many experts believe the root cause lies in the harsh realities of poverty and the intense pressure to succeed, which can push athletes toward dangerous shortcuts.
By the end of 2024, the AIU reported 481 athletes and support personnel on its ineligibility list. This global list represented individuals who received bans from athletics for violating anti-doping regulations.
Kenya alone accounted for a significant portion of the list, 119 of the 481 athletes, or 24.74%, to be exact.
On top of that, Chepngetich’s manager, Federico Rosa, has previously represented several athletes caught doping, including Jemima Sumgong and Asbel Kiprop. Now, that doesn’t automatically mean she’s guilty, of course, but in a sport where perception is everything, it raises questions.
But here’s the thing: Kipchoge, the most celebrated marathoner of all time, comes from the same Kenyan system. He’s never been accused of doping at the same level.
Why do we give him the benefit of the doubt but not Chepngetich?
Meanwhile, Uganda has not had the same level of doping scandals, which might explain why Kiplimo has been spared from the same level of scrutiny. But is it really fair to lump individual athletes into these broader narratives, or should we evaluate performances independently?
The Uncomfortable Reality of Sexism in Running
When a runner breaks a world record, the response is often a mix of celebration and skepticism. However, how much of each reaction an athlete receives isn’t just about the numbers on the clock—it’s also shaped by their gender.
Sexism in sport has long influenced how we perceive and trust athletic achievements, particularly when it comes to record-breaking performances by women vs. men.
Historically, women’s accomplishments in athletics have been met with greater scrutiny than men’s.
When a male runner crushes a world record, the default response is often awe and admiration. People are quick to attribute his success to superior genetics, rigorous training, or improved coaching.
In contrast, when a female athlete achieves something extraordinary, the immediate reaction often includes a layer of doubt. Is the record legitimate? Has she been tested? Is this a fluke?
The underlying assumption seems to be that men’s physical potential is boundless, while women’s is more fixed—so when a woman surpasses expectations, it can be met with suspicion rather than celebration.
Doping accusations, for instance, tend to surface much faster for female athletes.
Men’s exceptional performances are more likely to be framed as the result of dedication and natural ability, whereas women who outperform expectations might be suspected of artificially enhancing their performance.
The burden of proof for legitimacy is often heavier for women, reinforcing an unfair double standard.
Media coverage also plays a role in shaping public perception.
Men’s records are frequently presented as monumental moments in the history of sport—legacy-building achievements that redefine what’s possible.
Women’s records, however, are often framed differently. The language used can subtly (or not so subtly) undermine their accomplishments, emphasizing shock or surprise rather than inevitability.
Instead of focusing solely on their performance, female athletes frequently find their stories intertwined with discussions of their personal lives, appearance, or how their success fits into a broader narrative about gender in sports.
Another significant factor is how female records are often measured against men’s.
Rather than being celebrated as standalone achievements, women’s records are sometimes dismissed in comparison to male performances.
The idea that a female world record “wouldn’t hold up” against a male counterpart reinforces the perception that women’s achievements exist in a secondary category rather than being monumental in their own right.
This kind of comparison rarely happens the other way around—no one questions a male athlete’s dominance by comparing him to a faster or stronger woman.
Beyond the numbers, female athletes also face additional scrutiny regarding their bodies.
The policing of women’s bodies in sport has been a persistent issue, from the relentless focus on muscle definition to more extreme cases where athletes have had their gender questioned altogether.
The controversy surrounding Caster Semenya is a prime example, where her dominance led to rule changes that effectively banned her from competing unless she altered her natural hormone levels.
No such regulations exist for male athletes who naturally produce higher levels of performance-enhancing hormones. This relentless scrutiny reinforces the idea that there’s a “natural limit” to female athleticism—and that going beyond it must be viewed with suspicion rather than celebration.
The reality is that sexism still shapes the way we view athletic performance.
While progress has been made in leveling the playing field, female athletes continue to face an uphill battle when it comes to how their achievements are perceived and validated.
Super Shoes: An Excuse or Explanation?
Then there’s the tech side of things. Carbon-plated super shoes have revolutionized the sport, and some studies suggest that women may benefit even more than men from them due to physiological differences in running economy.
A study published in Frontiers in Sports and Active Living found that female runners wearing carbon-plated shoes saw greater reductions in energy cost compared to male runners, which could partially explain the dramatic improvements in women’s marathon times.
But if technology is helping everyone, why do we explain men’s performances as “progress” and women’s as “suspicious”?
What This Says About the Sport—and About Us
The starkly different reactions to Chepngetich and Kiplimo reveal a lot about running culture. From media representation to historical biases, the way we react to world records is anything but neutral.
So what happens next?
If women’s marathoning is truly entering a golden era, will we embrace it, or will every record be met with suspicion?
If a European or American runner had done what Chepngetich did, would the reaction have been different? When Radcliffe set her record in 2003, she was widely celebrated—how would that narrative play out today?
And when the next man shatters a record, will we scrutinize him as intensely as we did Chepngetich?
These are questions worth asking. Because if we want to celebrate greatness, we need to make sure we’re not letting bias dictate who gets to be great.
Thank you for writing this.