Husbands carrying wives in 200m race at Can Gio: Not a record, but a hinge for mass sports

On a weekend morning in Can Gio, the starting whistle did not signal a speed race. On the 200-metre course, husbands bent down, knelt on one knee, and hoisted their wives onto their backs. The couple Xuan Them – Thuy Linh crossed the finish line in more than three minutes, far slower than normal running pace. But that figure should not be compared with records, because the wife-carrying category does not belong to any official competition system. What deserves attention is the story hidden behind those three-plus minutes: Vietnam's sport is transforming, and mass-participation races are no longer just about setting results but about connecting families and communities. According to reports, the husband had to carry an extra 40–50 kg on his back, which shortened his stride and kept his knees bent for the whole course. With 200 metres completed in more than 3 minutes, the average speed was only about 1.1 m/s – the equivalent of fast walking, not running. For comparison, at the Nordic wife-carrying championship, athletes complete a 253.5-metre course in about 60 seconds, four times faster than the pace in Can Gio. That difference makes it clear this was a fun activity, not an elite sporting contest. In fact, the concept of wife-carrying is not new. It comes from the Finnish "eukonkanto" tradition, in which husbands carry their wives through obstacles in the shortest possible time. Over the years, this novelty has spread to many countries and become a media highlight in mass-participation running events. In Can Gio, the local version is simpler: just carry a wife through 200 metres, with no obstacles and no technical requirement. That simplicity makes it accessible to everyone. The event was part of the HDBank Green Marathon, a community race sponsored mainly by HDBank. Alongside the main 42 km distance, the organisers retained the 200 m wife-carrying contest and children's distances of 1.5 km and 3 km. This was the fifth consecutive year the wife-carrying contest was held, showing a stable format backed by the sponsor. Hundreds of local residents came to watch, creating a festival atmosphere. One child running 1.5 km burst into tears halfway and was helped to the finish by pacers. That small detail says a lot about the preparation: not only a racecourse, but also a support system. From a professional perspective, the 200 m wife-carrying race has no performance value. It is not a World Athletics discipline, has no qualifying standard, and has no ranking. If anyone tries to rank it with marathon or Olympic records, that is a category error. But setting aside competitive value, we can see a certain wisdom in the organisation. Side events such as wife-carrying and children's short races are a funnel that brings people who have never run closer to the sport. A father who comes to cheer may sign up for a marathon the following year; a child who finishes 1.5 km may become a future long-distance runner. It is no accident that the model of combining a race with a festival, games and children's distances is booming in Vietnam. Demographically, widening the pool of participants is a smart strategy for building the future athlete base. In a developing economy where running has only recently become a habit of the urban middle class, community races serve as a gateway. There is no need for stars; one weekend, one coastal road, and hundreds of families are enough to keep the flame alive. HDBank is not sponsoring in the hope of creating a champion; it is sponsoring to build a brand linked to community and a healthy lifestyle. That does not diminish the event. On the contrary, it reflects the true nature of mass sport. Back to the winning couple. Xuan Them and Thuy Linh both belong to An Suong Runners, a community running club. They are not professional athletes. What stands out is this: after carrying each other over 200 metres, they signed up for the 42 km race the next day. That detail reveals two people with good fitness who are used to running on consecutive days. Yet it also shows that their motivation comes from experience and togetherness rather than results. "Interesting activity, useful for the community," said Them. They run for joy, for being together amid the festival atmosphere. In the context of Vietnamese sport, we need to distinguish two levels: elite sport and mass sport. HDBank Green Marathon belongs to the mass level. It is not part of the ranking circuit, has no professional standards, and has no doping implications. Those are not flaws; they are characteristics. When a middle-income country wants to develop running, the first thing to do is create exercise habits among the many. Fun runs, family runs and children's races are the foundation. Without that foundation, long-distance talents will not appear 10 or 15 years later. I have followed Vietnam's community races for nearly 50 years. People see a match; I see destinies passing the ball. Couples carrying each other, children running hesitantly, parents cheering from the roadside – they do not set records, but they pass on a message: sport is for everyone. Some articles I wrote were rejected, and now they are the scars I cherish most. Like these side events, they were seen as secondary, yet they turned out to be what sustains a long-term love of sport. In fact, positioning the value of a community race correctly is more important than measuring performance. If we treat the wife-carrying race as a competition, we will be disappointed because it is too slow and lacks competitiveness. But if we see it as a media tool and a bonding catalyst, it is extremely effective. A video of a husband carrying his wife, or a child escorted by a pacer to the finish line, spreads much more than a technical chart. That is not a bad thing. Sport always needs both: the elite arena and the mass festival. Some may argue that such games are not sport. They may be right if we look only at competitive criteria. But that view misses the social role of the event. In Can Gio, hundreds of people took to the streets, children ran with their parents, and couples laughed through the challenge. That festival atmosphere builds a community attached to running. In the long run, this is more valuable than a medal. Sponsors understand this very well. They do not need a fierce race; they need a warm, friendly brand image. Can Gio is a coastal district of Ho Chi Minh City, more than 50 km from the centre. It was once little known in the running community. The presence of a bank-sponsored marathon with hundreds of spectators and family activities reflects the wave of running spreading from the centre to the suburbs. That matters more to the sports industry than any medal. When a coastal district can hold a sports festival with several generations taking part, it is a sign that the mass-sport market is maturing. Looking at the event structure, it is clear the organisers planned carefully. The morning was for children over short distances; in the afternoon, couples faced the wife-carrying challenge; the next day, the 42 km marathon was the main dish for serious runners. This layering is like a ladder: children enter through fun, adults gradually increase the difficulty. After a season, some participants stay with running and become loyal customers of bigger races. That is a healthy cycle. Financially, the model is also noteworthy. Instead of relying only on marathon entry fees, the organisers use side events to attract a wider audience, thereby increasing appeal to sponsors. HDBank appears as the title sponsor, associating its brand with an energetic community and happy families. This is not an ordinary advertising ROI story; it is about building long-term brand equity. Community races in Vietnam are seeing a similar wave: businesses no longer see sports sponsorship as charity but as an effective marketing channel. One caveat is needed. If races focus too much on entertainment and neglect professionalism and safety, development can go off track. Carrying 40–50 kg for 200 metres can put pressure on the spine and knees. Organisers need technical guidance, and even weight categories, to ensure safety. No information about such measures has been reported, but it is something similar events should learn from developed countries. For children, having pacers accompany them is a good sign; that model should be expanded. Another plus is stability. An event that survives five consecutive years proves it is not a passing fad. Couples may have returned many times, and families are getting used to spending weekends running. That is what any sports culture needs: habit. Before thinking about Olympic medals, Vietnam needs a generation that sees training as part of life. Events like HDBank Green Marathon are playing that role, quietly but steadily. The field taught me that some lessons are never rejected. That morning in Can Gio, the lesson was in the eyes of children who completed 1.5 km, and in the smile of Thuy Linh when her husband carried her across the line. They did not break records, but they are creating a sports culture. That culture, one day, will produce real champions. The question is not whether the wife-carrying race is sport. The question is whether Vietnam is fully using community race models to build the foundation for long-distance sport. When a child is helped across the finish line by a pacer, when a husband carries his wife over 200 metres in more than three minutes of small steps, sport does not need a record to touch the heart. Will one of this year's children become a Vietnamese marathon runner in the next two decades? Let us wait and see.