London Marathon 2025: The Final Chapter
Morning Light and Marathon Dreams Today was the day I had been building towards for months. Every cold morning, every soaked pair of socks, every long, lonely run came down to this — London Marathon day. The alarm clock chirped far too early, but I was already half-awake, running through the plan for the day in my head. After polishing off two cinnamon and raisin bagels (because clearly one was not going to be enough) and a strong coffee, I packed up my bag of gels, SaltStick chews, and hope and we set off. The drive up to Blackheath was filled with that strange, electric mix of excitement and anxiety. My parents did their best to drop me as close to the start as they could and I waved them off with a grin that hid the fluttering nerves underneath. I made my way to the starting area, ticking off the necessary pre-race rituals — most importantly, joining the epic pilgrimage to the toilets, where I was reminded once again that there are few places in life where dignity is checked at t...