I completed my first marathon in May, running 4:32 in Madison, Wisconsin. Not only did this achievement give me a great deal of satisfaction and pride, but I've noticed that my friends and acquaintances are treating me differently. I'm receiving a certain level of respect that I'd never achieved before.

Of course, people respect the achievement represented by running a marathon. Anyone who's been a half-serious athlete knows about the determination and training required to achieve this lofty goal. I'm not talking about that.

What I mean is a different kind of respect--the respect of having one's athletic efforts being taken seriously, and of being respected as an athlete.

Let me back up and give some context. I've always enjoyed playing individual and team sports, but I've almost always been among the lesser players in any contest. I couldn't make any of my high school or even junior high teams, and I'd long ago given up my personal fantasy of pitching for the Mets in Shea Stadium.

Over the years I've played sports with friends, I've traditionally been the underdog. When I beat someone, they'd comment, "I had a bad day." It was never a reflection that I was really a decent tennis player or had a couple of good moves on the basketball court.

Even when I started swimming regularly a few years ago, I didn't get much respect. Perhaps this is due to the fact that few people in the Washington area swim: People just don't know how hard it is to swim a mile a day, five days a week. They couldn't relate that effort to better stamina I demonstrated on the tennis court or a stronger swing in a softball game.

But now, that's all changed, thanks to the marathon. Finishing a marathon is an athletic achievement that symbolizes to my friends that I'm a real athlete.

Now, when I get to a difficult shot in tennis, I get a respectful acknowledgment of my better foot speed and stamina. When I play touch football, I get to run the "fly" patterns to tire out my defender.

Recently, a friend who's a weightlifter and I took our kids kite- flying, and he looked at me and said, "Hey, you've really got some quads. I'd never noticed before." Because of my swimming, my quads had been muscular for several years. He hadn't noticed before. I wasn't a marathoner before.

Even my wife gives my exertions a newfound respect. When I began running a little over year ago, she was indifferent or even unaware of my efforts. She didn't attend my first race--the 1998 Army Ten-Miler--or subsequent 5- and 10-milers I did to train for the Madison Marathon. When I announced in January that I would train for a spring marathon, her only comment was, "Don't let it interfere with your responsibilities around here."

But we made a vacation out of the trip to Madison, and my wife did watch the marathon, meeting me at several strategic points along the way to wave and shout encouragement. She was at the finish line and said--with surprise in her voice--"You didn't even look tired compared with other people at the end."

And now when I go out for a run, my wife doesn't comment, "How long will it take?" She says, "Good luck, and don't overdo it in the heat."

Kevin Adler, a journalist who lives in Takoma Park, is now training for a spring marathon. He can be reached via e-mail:Kevin Adler