From Start Line to Spark: My London Marathon Story
What. A. Weekend.
The London Marathon is… well, it’s hard to explain unless you’ve been there. It’s beautiful. It’s noisy. It’s relentless and joyful and emotional and overwhelming in the best possible way. It’s thousands of people moving with purpose, under the same sky, chasing something big – something personal.
And somehow, I got to be one of them.
London Marathon: DONE.
(Yes, I’m a tad emotional. Yes, I cried. No, I don’t want to talk about how many times.)
---
Like Father, Like Daughter
Swipe back a few decades and you’ll find little me – standing at the side of a race, watching my dad run. My love of running started there, at the finish lines, in the car parks, by the patio doors where he’d sit after a long run in the summer.
I didn’t realise it then, but something was being planted in me. A tiny spark.
Take your kids to races. Let them soak up the atmosphere, the effort, the joy.
You never know what they’ll carry with them.
---
Before the Start Line
Marathon training took over. Fundraising swept me up. There was a minor walking-related injury (classic me). Easter holidays added a whole extra layer of chaos.
Then, suddenly, it was Marathon Week.
The week of the marathon. The one I’ve always dreamed of running. The one I’d watched on TV so many times with tears in my eyes for runners I had never met. The one that felt so far away for so many years. Until it didn’t.
I tried to stay calm. I really did. But honestly?
BRB, just casually losing my mind before the biggest run of my life.
---
Race Day
I can still feel the buzz in the air as I walked to the start line. The hum of nerves and excitement, the quiet camaraderie between runners, the smell of Deep Heat and bananas. It’s hard to put into words what it means to stand there, knowing you’ve done everything you can, and now it’s time to run.
And so we ran.
Through the noise. Through the crowds. Past strangers shouting our names. Past memories. Past limits. Past doubt.
It was loud and long and magic. Every mile had its own story. And somewhere in all that chaos, I found myself – again and again.
---
Aftermath
Now it’s over, and I’m full of gratitude.
To my family and friends, thank you for your support and love.
To every stranger who clapped, shouted, danced, handed out sweets – thank you.
To my body, which carried me 26.2 miles across a city I love – thank you.
To the little girl who watched her dad run and thought, maybe one day – you did it.
---
This One Meant the World
I’ve got some exciting news to share soon (stay tuned!) but for now, I just want to sit in this feeling a little longer. That feeling of doing something you once thought was impossible. That feeling of finishing what you started.
If you’re reading this and wondering if you could ever do something like this – please believe me when I say:
If I can, you can.
