I have never been timid about criticizing Runrio races.

I have slipped on unlit, uneven pavement at the Milo Marathon and the Ayala Manila Marathon — falls that left injuries that were anything but minor. I have suffered through tepid water at aid stations when Manila’s heat and humidity demanded ice. I have dodged traffic on streets that should have been closed. I have waited too long for medals.

My grievances were real, they were documented, and they were shared.

Which is why what happened on 12 June surprised me so completely.

The Galaxy Manila Marathon — 25,000 runners, EDSA from the SM Mall of Asia Complex to SM North EDSA and back, 42 kilometers through the heart of Metro Manila on Independence Day — was unlike anything I had experienced in a local race.

It felt, for the first time, like a World Major.

I did not expect to think that. The six Abbott World Marathon Majors — Tokyo, Boston, London, Berlin, Chicago, New York — are the gold standard of the sport.

Meticulous organization. Closed roads. Enormous crowds. Electric energy from start to finish. That is not a bar I would have previously associated with a Philippine race. But somewhere between Buendia Station and Santolan, between the 26 uphill climbs and the red carpet at the finish line, I changed my mind. Manila can do this someday.

Last Friday proved it.

What Runrio got right was everything that matters most. People came out to cheer, genuinely and in numbers. Runners counted the MRT stations like milestones — Buendia, Guadalupe, Ortigas, Cubao, Santolan — which gave the EDSA route a rhythm and a geography that no previous course in this country had offered.

The logistics held. The energy held. The production felt world-class.

The finish line was dramatic in the best possible way: a red carpet, bright lights, the kind of triumphant arrival that a runner who has just conquered 42 kilometers deserves. And Runrio recognized age-group podium finishers — a detail that matters enormously to those of us who are no longer competing with runners in their 20s,30s, or even 40s. At 55, I cannot chase the elites.

But for my category, I will give everything I have. On 12 June, that was enough for third place and a bronze medal. I was recognized on a podium. That recognition is not a small thing.

And yet — and I say this not to diminish the achievement but because honesty is the price of credibility — there is a gap between “best local race I have ever run” and “World Major.”

The smoke-belching buses and trucks sharing four lanes of EDSA with tens of thousands of runners is not merely unpleasant; it is a genuine health hazard. When runners push hard, their lungs open. Pollution and exhaust hit differently at kilometer 30 than at rest.

The stretch near Cubao’s Farmers Market carried odors I cannot describe and do not wish to. And full road closure — the kind that defines every World Major — would transform this race from historic to genuinely iconic.

These are solvable problems. Full EDSA closure requires government partnership at a scale Runrio has not yet achieved but could. Air quality along the route is a policy issue, not just a race-day one. The organizational infrastructure demonstrated last Friday shows that the race production itself is already there.

The World Majors began somewhere. Boston in 1897. London in 1981. Tokyo in 2007. Every great marathon was once a first attempt by people who believed their city deserved a place on the world stage.

After 12 June, I believe Manila deserves that place too.

Kudos, Runrio. Kudos, Manila runners. We are closer than we think.