As the sun peeks through the London fog, I gather with 50,000+ other runners at Greenwich, the starting line of one of the world’s most iconic races: the London Marathon. For marathon enthusiasts like us, this is more than just a race; it’s a 26.2-mile tour of historical landmarks, cultural hotspots, and moments of personal epiphany – all wrapped in the quintessentially British charm of this vibrant city. Personally, it was a chance to knock off marathon major #5 (just Tokyo to go for all six!), so I eagerly signed up when the opportunity came, even though I had less than five days of recovery from the Boston Marathon. Once again, too many races in April/May, but hey, what can you do when life calls? ;-)

The race begins near the Royal Observatory, where Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) originates. Coming direct from the Boston Marathon (GMT-5), the time zone shift is a noticeable difference, but the late start time at London helps with acclimation. Given my frequent cross-Atlantic work travel (8th trip across the pond this year!), one would think I have an advantage with so much dancing on the + and - side of GMT, but the dozens of Boston mylar finish line blankets around me indicate that I’m one of many attempting the Boston/London double. As I lace up my shoes and stretch my still-sore-from-Boston legs, I ponder the irony of racing against the clock in the very place where time itself was standardized.

The starting gun fires, and we’re off, feet pounding the pavement as we dash past the Cutty Sark, the historic British clipper ship that once braved the high seas to bring tea from China. It’s a reminder that, like those sailors of yore, we runners are embarking on our own epic journey, albeit one that doesn’t involve braving typhoons or smuggling opium (hopefully). At some corners, I am surrounded by costumed runners, not a surprise given how popular the London Marathon is for setting official Guinness World Records for costume runs. Pokemon, men in drag, disco balls, even a huge telephone booth go by, keeping the laughter at peak levels among the crowds. The streets are quite narrow, so a lot of elbows are bumped, but thanks to politeness of Londoners, each knock comes with a “oh, I’m so terribly sorry”.

As we cross the River Thames via the iconic Tower Bridge (mile 12), I can’t help but marvel at the sheer majesty of London’s architecture. The Tower of London looms to our right, its walls steeped in tales of beheadings, royal intrigue, and enough ghosts to populate a whole season of a supernatural Netflix series. Running here, where history seems to whisper from every stone, gives one a sense of continuity – a connection to the countless souls who have walked these streets before us. Both sides of the Tower Bridge are packed with spectators, giving us a needed boost for the second half, and on the other side of the Thames we get our first glance of the front runners coming in the other direction. The Mens race is spread out, with Prague Marathon winner Alexander Munyao leading legend Kenise Bekele (now 40 yrs old!) and Brit Emile Calress looking to get his spot on the Olympic Team to go to Paris. The pro Women had the fastest in the world running as a pack - Olympic gold medalist Peres Jepchirchir, world record holder Tigst Assefa, and past London winner Joyciline Jepkosgei sharing long and graceful strides.

After a yawn-worthy stretch through back streets, our route begins winding through the financial heart of the city. The skyscrapers of Canary Wharf shimmer in the morning light, a stark contrast to the medieval grandeur we’ve just left behind. It’s like running through a timeline of human ambition and achievement, from stone fortresses, to towering churches, to glass monoliths. Somewhere in between, perhaps, lies the metaphor for our own lives: a blend of enduring strength, belief, and modern dreams.

The spectators lining the route are as much a part of the marathon as the runners, and as we get into the final five miles, they are everywhere. Their cheers, witty signs, and offerings of snacks and water provide a buoyant lift to our weary legs. Londoners are known for their dry humor, and it’s on full display today. “Worst parade ever!” one sign reads, while another declares, “You’re running better than our government!” It’s this blend of encouragement and sarcasm that makes Londoners so endearing.

The final miles take us along the Embankment, with the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben standing watch. As we pass these symbols of British democracy, I reflect on how this race, like life, is a test of endurance, resilience, and sometimes just sheer stubbornness. I think of Samuel Johnson, the great lexicographer, who famously said, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” At this moment, with my legs burning and my heart pounding, I understand that Samuel likely had never tried running a marathon here. Yet, there’s an undeniable truth to his words – the city’s energy is infectious, and even in the throes of exhaustion, it’s impossible not to be invigorated by its spirit. The London Eye comes into view, and the finish line at Buckingham Palace beckons. Queen Victoria’s statue stands proudly, a stern reminder of the days when marathons were just a glimmer in someone’s Victorian-era eye.

Crossing the finish line (3:16:57), the sense of accomplishment washes over me. The medal placed around my neck feels like a knight’s badge of honor, earned through sweat, determination, and perhaps a bit of madness. Comparing the London Marathon to other big city marathons, I realize each has its unique flavor. New York’s energy is electric, Boston’s history is palpable, but London’s charm lies in its seamless blend of past and present, humor and gravitas, tradition and innovation. My heart loves that I got to absorb Boston and London in the same week, full of similarities and contrast, but my left hamstring reminds me that both had A LOT of pavement.

As I hobble away from the finish line and grab a proper pint with fellow finishers, I am struck by the special experience of traveling to big city marathons. It’s about immersing oneself in the city’s rich tapestry, feeling the pulse of its history, and finding laughter and inspiration in the journey with your fellow warriors. We share our personal stories over chips, talking of the pros (Munyao, 2:04:01, and Jepchirhir, 2:16:16, both managed wins by seconds, with Bekele setting a 40+ world record of 2:04:15, and Emile Calress getting 3rd and his Olympic spot), laugh about the funniest costumes and signs, take selfies, and relish the gift of having a day to push our boundaries. For every runner, whether elite or amateur, the marathon is a testament to the human spirit and a joyful reminder that life, much like a marathon, is best enjoyed one step at a time, with a smile and a dash of humor.

Up next, Wings For Life in Vienna, and Ironman Mallorca 70.3! Well, first some rest. ;-)

Scott