It is unquestionably a day like no other. On marathon morning, dawn breaks crisply over the capital but the city doesn’t so much wake as sparkle into life. Away from the tourist-goers and money-makers of the regular weekday hustle-and-bustle, this is the day that London truly comes alive.
Starting in Blackheath and winding through the city’s east before finishing on the historic Mall, 59,000 people take on the 26.2-mile challenge of a lifetime. The estimates are that for 93,000 energy gels consumed, £100m will be raised for charitable causes. And at every juncture, stories that touch the soul heroically stroll by.
Each running vest tells a deeper story; each costume a burden bigger than oneself. By Sunday night, a video of Jordan Adams in uncontrollable tears after he crosses the finish line, with a 25kg fridge on his back, had more than 400,000 likes on Instagram. The 30-year-old is one half of ‘The FTD Brothers’, formed after their mother died of frontotemporal dementia (FTD) at the age of 52. Both Jordan and his brother Cian carry a rare gene linked to FTD, and to raise awareness, Jordan is running 32 more marathons in 32 days across Ireland, starting on Monday. London was just the start.
It is impossible not to be touched by their heart-wrenching cause and story. Theirs and thousands more. “This is for everyone affected by dementia, this is for you guys,” he told BBC Sport. “But we’re going to make a difference before dementia takes our lives.”
On pavements across the city, strangers shout encouragement to other strangers, screeching the names emblazoned on their kits. For every cardboard sign and beaming smile – whether it be a runner, spectator, volunteer – there is a purity to proceedings unlike any other occasion. And all that before, slicing through the heart of it all, one of running’s most historic accomplishments.
Whispers permeated through the crowds. “Have you heard?” It is 11:34am when Sabastian Sawe crosses the finish line in an astonishing feat of human performance. The Kenyan 29-year-old is a record-breaker: the first person to run a sub-2-hour marathon in race conditions. No revolving pace-makers; no wind-shielders; no caveats.
His margin of 30 seconds below two hours – for context, that’s running 100m in 17 seconds, 422 consecutive times – is remarkable in itself. The fact that second-placed Yomif Kejelcha of Ethiopia finished just 11 seconds behind, also dipping under two hours, is another extraordinary element to the elite men’s race. Even third-placed Jacob Kiplimo, 28 seconds over two hours, set a time which beat the previous world record.
On a sun-soaked morning, landmarks everywhere have been shattered.
And yet in this mighty fine epicentre of the showpiece, a Chelsea fan hovering outside London Bridge station tells how the narrative shifts as morning becomes afternoon. ‘Days sober’ reads the name on the back of the shirt; 0 is the number below.
Jump on the Jubilee Line north and the underlying buzz shifts. While at one end of the carriage a marathon sign reads ‘Hurry up so we can drink’, Chelsea supporters have already pipped them to the post. Moises Caicedo is the topic of their latest wave of chants, to the tune of Gold. “You’re indestructible, always believing,” they sing.
Sitting down, a marathon runner can’t help but smile.
Yet the realities of the pre-match hype and colour, including a bellowing rendition of “Marching on Together” from Leeds supporters who had not reached the FA Cup semi-finals in 38 years, do not match the realities of elite-level football. Chelsea, buoyed by the lift of a new manager and the quiet assertion of financial might, edge a relatively drab game in front of 82,000. Enzo Fernandez, the £106m-man, is the difference-maker, days after he stared vacantly into the abyss in a stand-off with Chelsea fans at Brighton. Next month, a trophy could still be won.
Even across north London, 26,000 gathered at the Emirates (also sponsors of the FA Cup) for Arsenal’s victory over Lyon in the Women’s Champions League semi-finals, with the Gunners closing in on a continental defence. Yet for common folk, a medal around the neck means something more. Running, the simple notion of one foot after the other, is simply the purest form of sport. No transfer fees, no unnerving financial management. The juxtaposition of this day, as fans mix with runners in stations across the city, is palpable.
And by the end of it all, the overwhelming question is: why wouldn’t London want another day of all this? Marathon organisers are pushing for a two-day event in 2027, increasing revenues and ballot opportunities. But even with all that, perhaps it’s just simply a want to double down on a feel: the raw emotion of a city bursting with life. London, when it electrifies like this, makes a persuasive case for more.
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