The only thing growing faster than London’s skyline is the queue to run through it.
The city sits at the centre of a running boom, driven by social media, which has made the sport more visible and community-focused. It’s a wonderful thing to see. Running, in all its inclusivity, is finally getting the recognition it deserves. But there’s a risk that comes with that level of exposure.
Each year, millions throw their hats into the ring for a place in the TCS London Marathon — and it’s not hard to see why. Anyone who has participated or spectated knows it’s a uniquely special event, showcasing not only some of the world’s best running talent but also the best of humanity itself. Thousands upon thousands of strangers line the streets, screaming your name, holding placards to spur you on, sometimes even offering a pint as you pass. The energy is just unmatched.
And then, as the day winds down, we go home, and we scroll. Our feeds fill with video after video of runners crossing the finish line, set to trending audio. It’s incredibly moving, and personally, I love watching them. But for every finish-line clip the algorithm serves up, there are months of training that go unseen. Long runs in bad British weather, breakdowns, injuries, lost toenails, constant fatigue, and turning down plans for the sake of sticking to your schedule.
Running the London Marathon — any marathon, for that matter — is extraordinary. If you complete, train, or even just attempt one, it is an incredible achievement. Less than 1% of the global population will complete a marathon in their lifetime, yet platforms such as TikTok and Instagram compress these huge achievements into 10 to 30-second clips. We consume content of influencers running back-to-back marathons and think it’s normal. It’s not.
The runner’s high might make for a great closing shot, a highlight of the grand finale, but it represents only a fraction of the journey it takes to get there.
For me, seeing this type of content was the push I needed to sign up for the TCS London Marathon this year. Having only run up to 10k before, I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and prove to my 15-year-old self that I could do something I never viewed myself as naturally good at. But I can see how it could be incredibly daunting to someone else, or perhaps even make you feel as though the Couch to 5k you completed isn’t enough, that running 7-8 minutes per kilometre is too slow, or that run-walk intervals (sometimes known as Jeffing) isn’t ‘doing it properly’. One of the most physically demanding things an ordinary person can do has, in some spaces, become casual content.
And when everything looks achievable, nothing looks exceptional. So it's important to remember that 26.2 miles is still 26.2 miles, no matter how many times you might see it online.
At the same time, something else has been shifting. In recent years, running has surged in popularity, driven in large part by young women, and with it, perceptions of what counts as ‘impressive’ have subtly changed. A record 1.13 million people entered the ballot for the 2026 TCS London Marathon, a 36% increase on the year before and nearly double the applications for 2024. Almost half of those applicants were women and more than a third of UK entrants are aged between 18 and 29. What was once seen as an extreme, almost unthinkable challenge now feels almost culturally expected, especially among my generation, Gen Z. The question is no longer “Did you run the marathon?” but “What time did you finish in?” I’ve even seen people turn their noses up at those who take longer than four hours, as if completing 26.2 miles isn’t a feat in itself.
When I told someone my time, they replied: “Oh well, at least you tried.” Why are we so quick to diminish achievements?
After crossing the finish line myself on Sunday, about 30 minutes slower than I’d hoped, I was simply relieved to finish. The heat really took it out of me; more than once I lost sight of the end and had to hold back tears. Despite an almost perfect training block, there are some things you just can’t account for on the day. I was aiming for 4 hours 20 minutes, but finished in 4 hours 54 minutes.
I was proud just to have completed it. But on the walk to the pub for a celebratory drink, someone said to me: “Well done on your marathon. What time did you get?” I told him, and he replied, “Oh well, at least you tried.” I laughed it off at the time, but it did make me think: why are we so quick to diminish achievements by focusing on the time?
Since Covid there has been a sharp rise in people taking up running, but also runners chasing personal bests, pushing their bodies to extremes, and making lifestyle adjustments just to shave a single minute off their times. This is partly, I think, down to coaching apps like Runna, which offer personalised training plans in minutes and platforms like Strava, where every run is validated through ‘kudos’. While these achievements are undeniably impressive, don’t get me wrong, it does feel as though we’re heading into an era where we prioritise speed over enjoyment, aesthetic over experience.
Running the London Marathon, which is renowned for being one of the most inclusive marathon events in the world, forces you out of that mindset. You’re surrounded by people of all age groups and abilities, each with their own reason for getting across that finish line. Cancer survivors, new mothers, world-record attempters, and family members running in memory of lost loved ones. It’s the stories that make London, London.
And what a day it was. At the start line, there’s that fizz of nervous energy. Runners drift through Greenwich, chatting, laughing, all of us buzzing with the same anticipation. I wish I could bottle up that feeling. Then before you know it you’re off. From Greenwich to Rotherhithe, Bermondsey to Tower Bridge, Canary Wharf and into central London. Crowds roar, music blares, drums pound in time with your heartbeat. It’s pure electricity. The pain is like nothing else, but somehow so is the joy. I’ve never felt so supported, lifted, by so many strangers.
It’s easy to see why the London Marathon is one of the most loved races in the world. If you want to experience this city at its very best, this is the weekend to do it.
If you ever have the opportunity to run it yourself, my advice is not to worry about your time. Soak. Up. Every. Second. The atmosphere, the crowds, the noise— it’s something you’ll never quite experience again. Don’t get lost in comparison or in chasing someone else’s goal. The only person you should set out to impress is yourself. This year, I was lucky enough to experience it all through the lenses of my Oakley Meta sunglasses, which let me capture some of the best moments (Tower Bridge, the Cutty Sark) without missing a step. The hands-free camera and built-in audio meant I could stay present while still having memories to hold onto.
So, the bottom line? It’s fantastic that running is getting the love and recognition it deserves. It’s a sport for everyone, and something more people should feel able to get involved in. But as it continues to grow in popularity—and it doesn’t look like that’s changing any time soon—it’s worth remembering that running a marathon is still not normal. The scale of the challenge hasn’t shrunk just because it shows up on your feed every weekend. No amount of marathon fit checks or highlight reels can change that.
So before you sign up for the London Marathon 2027 ballot, make sure you know what you’re taking on. Be prepared. Because the hardest part, in my opinion, isn’t crossing the finish line: it’s making it to the start.
