2026 London Marathon Day
A first marathon — and what seven months of training amounted to...
There comes a time where one thinks they are capable of achieving incredible feats. At marathon day, I was that person.
Back in September, exactly seven months ago, I started training for what would have become the world's biggest marathon (in number of participants) and the fastest ever recorded by Kenya's Sabastian Sawe (1:59:30). It was quite a journey — literally the journey of winter and summer. I have never trained or prepared for an event that far out, and as consistently, as I did for this marathon.
The world is quite fascinating in its utter indifference and disregard to the amount of effort that one puts in. What is even more fascinating is that, despite this, the human will and determination is unfazed.
When I started training I asked my coach if 3:30 was a good time to aim for; he said that it was too unrealistic given my training time and fitness. I flopped to a time of 3:40, which at the time I thought was quite realistic. Then my training started — I will spare you the details for now; I might go into them in a later blog.
After months and months of training, come race day, I was more than ready to achieve what I had worked so hard on.
Race Day
Before starting the race I met a guy who told me not to rush the start and to start slowly. I nodded my head. I passed the start line, and what followed was a long journey of delusion, suffering, excitement and fury — one might say a cocktail of emotions. Come mile 5, my heart rate was good (~160); however, even here I realised that my 3:40 goal was unlikely. There I reminded myself of what those past months of training were for. I knew that all this couldn't be for nothing. Come mile 13, I was strong, and yet unsure of the possibility of even finishing under 3:50.
Canary Wharf and the Walk of Shame
When I completed Canary Wharf (mile 20), I thought that I would forever hate that place. Anyone who has done the London Marathon would understand what I mean. Endless crowds of people tearing up your ears, and scenery that is most mediocre (sorry to anyone living there) and depressing. There I decided to flop to a time of under 4 hours. Shout-out to all my friends who cheered me on — I would not have been able to do it without you.
Around mile 21, I saw a pacemaker holding a flag of 4:00 (meaning they are set to finish at that time). They were quite fast, but when I looked at my watch I had only 20 minutes to reach 4 hours. There I raised my heart rate to the maximum possible and raced to follow them. Five minutes in, I looked around and realised that there is no way the finish line is 15 minutes away from here. I remembered that people come in waves — these people holding the 4-hour flag had 20 minutes more on their clocks to go. I gave up.
Miles 22 to 25, I started jogging lightly or walking. The walk of shame, I call it. The walk that, when a runner sees you, they would know: you did not pace yourself right, you were too fast at the start of the marathon. I told myself that if I did not walk I might not be able to finish the marathon, as I might just collapse before the finish line.
The Finish Line — Mile 25/26
I am truly grateful that, despite all the difficulties and circumstances that left me unable to achieve my goal time, I was still able to disregard all that and enjoy the crowds cheering me on, the beautiful scenery, and the overall feeling of finally finishing the marathon. When I passed Buckingham Palace and finally the finish line, my friend Ali was there to congratulate me and help me walk back to the station.
Near the station, there was a sublime 5-year-old who caught a glimpse of my proudly worn medal, which made him smile as he came to admire and hold it. There and then, I knew that despite everything, doing the marathon was absolutely worth the effort.
See you London Marathon 2027 (or Brighton) :)