It's time to hand over the baton

It's London Marathon this Sunday! A year on from running it, here's what you should know

Ah, Harry and Jack. I hope they are well, wherever they are

My year of glory is over. It’s time for the class of 2025 to get their medals, t-shirts and blackened toenails (fun fact: one of mine eventually fell off in October).

But if you’re running London — or, in fact, Manchester — Marathon this weekend (I know I have at least one reader who is, including the warm, inspiring and supportive Substack queen that is

Daisy Buchanan

), I have some unsolicited words of wisdom to share.

You probably won’t care about your time

I obsessed about running the marathon in under five hours. All of my training was geared towards this pretty arbitrary goal and I was worried I’d beat myself up endlessly if I didn’t manage it. I felt so pre-emptively humiliated about potentially not hitting it, even though I knew that, based on my training, it would be borderline.

In the end, I didn’t manage it and I didn’t care. The day was about SO much more than a time. My official result was 5.15, but my actual time spent running was 5.05. I lost 10 minutes to toilet queues and hugs with loved ones — and I think we can all agree that I’d definitely regret it a lot more if I hadn’t stopped for those.

Basically, somewhere in Docklands (THE ABSOLUTE WORST BIT), it dawned on me that this was just a hobby that had got out of hand and it wasn’t like I was trying to win. Just being there, four years on from Couch to 5K, was a huge achievement.

You will finish

One of the biggest, most crippling fears among rookie marathon runners is that they won’t finish, but one of the most useful and reassuring things I’ve ever heard is that THE VAST MAJORITY OF DID-NOT-FINISHERS ARE ELITE RUNNERS.

It makes sense, really. If you’re a pro or semi-pro athlete who’s realised a few miles in that it’s just not your day for whatever reason, you’ll leave the course, safe in the knowledge that you have another race lined up to triumph at soon and it’s probably better to save your body from further strain for now.

If, however, you’re a bog standard recreational runner who's spent months training meticulously for this one day, and you’ve been badgering your friends and family for money and you’re running for a cause close to your heart and you’ve talked about nothing else all year and you really fucking want that medal and you’ve already planned the perfect proud but self-deprecating Instagram post, you will — injury not withstanding — get to the finish line, even if you end up walking some of it.

You will forget something

You have probably spent weeks planning your outfit, your kitbag and whatever you’re carrying with you for the race itself. I had it all sorted: the right number of gels, salt sticks, my Airpods case so that I could charge them separately when, after 10 miles or so, they would inevitably take it in turns to run out because they’re shit (a year on, I still haven’t bought new ones.)

But, I didn’t take tissues. And when I faced a long toilet queue with a slightly dodgy stomach at mile 16, I — along with seemingly everyone else with a slightly dodgy stomach at mile 16 — really needed tissues. Thankfully, there were a few scraps on the floor of the Portaloo. Memories made.

You might not “get the bug”

After finishing, did I swear I would never run a marathon ever again? No. Oh, so did I immediately sign up for 10 more marathons? Also no. Most people told me I’d go one way or the other, but actually I feel kind of ambivalent about it. I definitely don’t want to run another marathon any time soon. It’s a really bloody long way and the training is all-consuming. I think it’s probably a “once a decade” type situation for me. In the meantime, half-marathons are probably a once a year thing, 10Ks are a once every three months thing and parkrun is every damned week ‘til I die.

You will slump into a pit of misery a few days afterwards

I felt AWFUL the week after the marathon: not physically, but mentally. All those months with all my time structured towards this one goal and then it was just… gone. For a couple of days, I was riding high on the glory and stroking my medal like it was my third child, and then, suddenly, post-marathon existential doom kicked in, like the worst PMT ever. WHAT DID I HAVE TO LIVE FOR NOW??? (apart from my family, friends, work, looming Dutch holiday, parkrun, cat etc…)

So, I’d recommend booking in some fun stuff to look forward to afterwards to take the edge off. To be fair, I did do this, but I still felt like shit for a few days. It will pass. Get a massage, eat some chocolate, write a poem or something, I dunno.

You will love your friends and family so much you might puke

I’ve just read back my mile-by-mile post from last year and it was way less about the running and way more about the amazing people who cheered me on, both from the sidelines and in my phone. In fact, reading it back made me cry real human tears (which is funny, as I didn’t cry any real human tears during the marathon itself. The photos suggest I mostly veered wildly between smiling and grimacing). I’m not saying you will do the same but, if you’re running a marathon any time soon, it might just get you in the mood and if you’re not, it might inspire you to sign up…

So, if you’re running a very long way this weekend, GOOD LUCK! Please let me know how you got on and don’t be afraid to fully revel in your moment of glory even if, unlike some people, you’re not normally a huge attention whore. Because, when you were doing those relentless training runs on damp, foggy February mornings with only your own paralysing self-doubt for company, you really, really earned it.

And if you’re not running a very long way this weekend, enjoy watching it instead, either IRL or on the telly (I’ll actually be at my dad’s birthday lunch, but I’ll be there in spirit!).

Like all the best reality shows, it’s guaranteed to feature love, pain, drama, bravery, hot bodies, people saying “you got this!”, strength, humour, sob stories and quite a few D-list celebrities.