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This Sunday, the streets of the capital will come alive for the 45th edition of the London Marathon — an event set to be one of the biggest in its history. A record-breaking 56,000 runners are registered to take on the grueling 26.2-mile course, while up to 750,000 spectators are expected to line the route, creating an atmosphere unlike any other in the world of sport.
The sheer scale of the event prompts an obvious question: why do so many people willingly endure months of brutal training, logistical challenges, and the physical and mental toll of race day?
After all, the marathon distance is famously punishing — the first person to run it, the legendary Greek messenger Pheidippides, died after delivering his message. Modern shoes and sports science offer some help, but the challenge remains as formidable as ever. Months of preparation, significant financial costs, and the looming risks of injury, exhaustion, or hitting "the wall" are part of the marathon experience. Yet, 55,999 runners — and this writer — have embraced the challenge once again.
Then there are the crowds. Facing packed public transport, long waits, and often cold, damp conditions, spectators come not just to see loved ones, but to roar encouragement at complete strangers. It's a rare display of community spirit, one that defines the unique spirit of the London Marathon.
Running my second London Marathon this year, I find myself better understanding the deep appeal. My own running journey began with Kent AC, a Lewisham-based athletics club. There, through shared effort, advice, and encouragement, a casual hobby transformed into a true passion. Many of my clubmates will also be taking part, representing just one slice of the immense community drawn to London this weekend.
But it's not only seasoned runners out on the course. Many participants run for causes far greater than themselves: to raise money for charity, to honor a lost loved one, or to achieve a deeply personal goal. For these runners, completing the race — no matter the time — is a profound victory.
Through my spot on the TCS-sponsored team, I’ve been inspired by fellow runners such as Tanzeela Khalid, a teacher from Birmingham aiming to inspire her diverse group of students by breaking barriers in sports participation, and Dylan Wing, a London PE teacher determined to stem the dropout rate of young girls in athletics. Their motivations speak to a larger, growing effort to make running a more inclusive and accessible community.
The generosity and resilience on display extend far beyond the course itself. Last year, struggling in the final miles toward Parliament, I found renewed strength as strangers — reading my name off my running vest — cheered me forward with unrelenting passion. It’s a moment that stays with you.
In truth, I still can’t fully explain why the London Marathon inspires such devotion — from runners and spectators alike. But after another year reflecting and preparing, I’m convinced it’s about something bigger: a celebration of humanity’s ability to endure, to uplift, and to come together.
The London Marathon isn't just a race. It’s a testament to the extraordinary spirit that lives within us all — and that’s why, no matter the challenges, we keep coming back.
