VM Nghe An 2026: Mai Trung and Dan Quyet trade meters, My Hien stuns to lead women's race

At 3:10 a.m. at Ho Chi Minh Square in Vinh City, two runners were almost glued together on the stretch leading out to Vinh - Cua Lo Avenue. Nguyen Mai Trung held the lead, Dan Quyet chased behind, the gap only about ten meters. Under the streetlights and the motorbike headlights of locals lining the road, ten meters was not enough to call a safe lead, yet it was enough to create a race. Two men, two personalities. Mai Trung kept his head down, eyes fixed on the asphalt, every breath steady like a tireless counter. Dan Quyet looked up, waved at the camera, still smiling. Same start line, same 42km distance, but they ran with completely different mindsets. Behind them, on the women's route, a local name was quietly leading: My Hien, holder of a personal best of 3 hours 7 minutes 39 seconds, competing for Nghe An Runners club.

When numbers learn to speak names, the whole course has to listen. After many years covering athletics, I learned that a marathon never carries only one story. It is a collection of thousands of small stories, each tied to a pair of legs, a goal, a private fear. And in Nghe An this time, the biggest story was being written by two men running side by side in the dark, exactly ten meters apart.

Preparing for a long night

At 1:50 a.m., the Nghe An Labor Culture House was still lit. VnExpress Marathon Grand Tour distributed bibs across September 25 and 26. This was the first time the event reached the hometown of President Ho Chi Minh, with four distances: 5km, 10km, 21km and 42km. All runners started at Ho Chi Minh Square and finished on Truong Thi Street, at the intersection with Le Van Huu Street. A closed course structure of opening from the center to the sea and back, familiar to those who have run major races, yet still new to many central Vietnam runners.

At 2:30 a.m., hundreds of volunteers coordinated with the operations team at many positions. Police, traffic police and local medical staff were also mobilized for security, traffic control and medical support along the course. From the evening of September 26, volunteers were present at the start area to receive assignments and learn the operating process. After the briefing, they were deployed to points along the route, installing infrastructure, completing water stations, cheering zones and other necessary items before runners entered the race. This is the work few mention, but without it no race can run to completion.

At 2:50 a.m., 42km runners gathered at the start line, warmed up, and prepared for the longest journey. Familiar names from the northern and central running scene appeared: Dan Quyet, Dao Ba Thanh, Le Van Huong. Beside them were home clubs such as Nghe An Runner and Ha Tinh Runner in striking pink shirts, creating an energetic atmosphere before the start. Chatting before the race, Thanh Meo and Vinh Runner noted this was a race with the fewest 42km runners, making it favorable to compete for places and break personal records, since the Nghe An course is quite favorable and the road surface is beautiful.

Three a.m.: the starting gun

Exactly at 3 a.m., 42km runners left the start line, beginning their journey through the full marathon course of the Grand Tour Nghe An. From the very first strides, Dan Quyet, Dao Ba Thanh and Mai Trung quickly broke away from the pack. In the darkness of Vinh City, three runners sped along Ho Tung Mau, turned onto Truong Thi Street, crossed Le Nin Avenue and joined Vinh - Cua Lo Avenue. Ten minutes later, the leading pack was down to two: Mai Trung and Dan Quyet.

Over 42km, the first ten minutes mean almost nothing in terms of ranking, but they are decisive psychologically. Anyone who has run a full marathon knows the hardest part is not kilometer 5 or 10, but kilometer 30 onward, when the body begins to protest and the mind begins to calculate. Two men breaking away early meant they chose a duel lasting nearly three hours, where no one blocks the wind, no one breaks the rhythm, and every tiny mistake is magnified.

Two rhythms, one gap

About ten minutes after the start, Mai Trung and Dan Quyet ran together. Both took turns leading. Mai Trung seemed focused, his eyes almost never leaving the road. Dan Quyet showed a relaxed spirit, waving at the camera as if savoring every stride. By around 3:10 a.m., Mai Trung pulled ahead with a gap of roughly ten meters. A gap so small that in many races, people call it sticking to the back rather than a breakout.

Nguyen Mai Trung, 35, from Hanoi, works in e-commerce, and is a member of Thanh Cong Runners club. He drew attention in the capital's running scene with a time of 2 hours 41 minutes 55 seconds at VnExpress Marathon Hai Phong 2026, ranking 69th on the list of the fastest full marathon runners in Vietnam's history. For an amateur runner, breaking into the national top 70 is no small milestone, because it demands perseverance over many years rather than a few months of training.

Dan Quyet, chasing behind, is a name with a different approach. He ran with a smile, frequently engaging with roadside spectators. In a long race, that attitude can be a psychological strength, easing tension, but it can also signal that he has not yet given full effort. When the two are only ten meters apart, the question is not who is leading, but who is conserving energy for the second half.

The course and the checkpoints you cannot ignore

For the 42km distance, starting from Ho Chi Minh Square, runners pass Ho Tung Mau, Truong Thi, Le Nin Avenue and join Vinh - Cua Lo Avenue. After about 16km, the course continues toward Binh Minh, passing the Cua Lo coastal area and turning around at Cua Xa. This is the coastal stretch, where sea wind can be an ally or an enemy depending on the direction, and where those who misjudge their pacing will pay.

Other distances started later. The 21km began at 4 a.m., following Ho Tung Mau - Truong Thi - Le Nin Avenue and then straight along Vinh - Cua Lo Avenue. After turning around near kilometer 11, runners returned toward the center and finished on Truong Thi Street. This distance has two cutoff points, at kilometer 10 at 5:40 a.m. and kilometer 16.9 at 6:50 a.m. The course closes at 7:30 a.m.

The 10km started at 5 a.m., from Ho Chi Minh Square through Ho Tung Mau, Truong Thi and Le Nin Avenue, into Vinh - Cua Lo Avenue and turning around near kilometer 5. Runners returned along the same route to finish. This distance has one cutoff at kilometer 6 at 6:15 a.m., and the course closes at 7 a.m. The 5km took place entirely in the city center: starting at 6 a.m., runners passed Ho Tung Mau, Truong Thi, onto Le Nin Avenue, turned around, returned to Truong Thi and finished at the intersection with Le Van Huu Street. This distance has no cutoff, and the course closes at 7:15 a.m.

Such a distribution of timing shows the organizers calculated so that shorter distances would not cut across the longer course, while ensuring traffic safety for the city. That is the kind of quiet calculation live viewers rarely notice.

The contrarian view: when few runners is a signal worth thinking about

Thanh Meo and Vinh Runner's remark that this was the race with the fewest 42km runners sounds at first like praise for the chance to compete for places. But looked at more closely, it reflects a paradox in Vietnam's running movement. Marathon events flourish in number, but the number of people daring to run the full 42km does not rise accordingly. Most runners choose 5km, 10km or 21km because those distances are manageable, easy to complete and fit a weekend schedule.

The result is that at many races, the 42km becomes the playground of a small group of amateur elites, where ranking is not too hard to achieve. That is good for the individual runner, but it raises a question about the depth of the movement. A healthy running culture is not measured by how many races are held each year, but by how many people can complete a marathon and keep coming back the next season.

In the women's race, the story is even clearer. My Hien leads with a personal best of 3 hours 7 minutes 39 seconds, a very impressive mark for an amateur athlete. But looking at the start list, the number of women running 42km is usually far smaller than men. I once stood at the 2026 World Cup and saw only one thing: prejudice. Then I counted every pass to erase it. On the running course, that prejudice takes another shape: people assume women run short, while men conquer long distances. Women like My Hien are quietly rewriting that assumption with their own feet, and they deserve to be recognized through data, not through half-hearted praise.

What remains after the start line

On the Cua Lo coastal road, before the sun rose, the duel between Mai Trung and Dan Quyet continued. Ten meters could shrink or stretch, and everything would be decided in the final kilometers, where a relaxed spirit or focus must yield to survival instinct.

I have spent years counting every stride, every pass, every second, because I believe that what is not recorded will be forgotten. At 61, I learned that sport is never old, only our way of seeing it wears out. VM Nghe An 2026 is not just a race with four distances or a results table. It is a chance for a woman to stay with the long course, for an amateur runner to prove that the national top 70 is not the limit, and for a city to learn how to open its roads for footsteps at three in the morning.

The race was not over when I wrote these lines. But whoever finishes first, what is memorable is not the medal. It is the moment two men ran side by side in the dark, ten meters apart, and a woman behind them quietly proving that long distances belong to no one in particular. The sports world always wants to rank. I only want to understand why they run, why they cry.

And the question I leave for myself, and for those reading: if a race has only a few people daring to run the full 42km, is a personal record their achievement, or the emptiness of an entire sport?