I ran my first 26.2 miles at the 2025 Manchester Marathon and it taught me a punishing lesson

Acclimatisation isn’t usually part of a first-time marathon training plan, yet there I was, veering to the kerb with my arms outstretched, practically begging a complete stranger to spray me down with a hosepipe as I marched on through the tropical temperatures of Greater Manchester.

What I didn’t realise at the time was that this light moment of comical relief would just be the opening act of the marathon’s gruelling challenges. I hadn’t planned for this heat and was yet to hit ‘the wall’, which would completely turn the experience on its head.

90,000 people ran between Manchester and London on an absolute scorcher. (Supplied)

When I signed up for the marathon, I wasn’t a complete running novice but on a day like this, a solid 19 degrees in Manchester - which is laughably hot for us Brits - I’d usually be found in a beer garden talking about how one day I was going to box off 26.2 miles, not actually out there doing it as part of the 35,000 taking it on.

Preparing to take on the marathon

I’d been a keen runner for a while. In the lead-up I managed a 1:29 half marathon, a time that once felt out of reach for me. But the marathon doesn’t care about your past glories; I was about to learn it slaps you straight in the face and announces itself as a different challenge entirely.

For that, you can only train hard and quite frankly, my training was well-intentioned but chequered. Life gets in the way if you let it, but from putting in at least a 10-mile long run a week, I committed to a nine-week training plan that consisted of intervals, a mid-distance run, and long runs that built up to 20 miles.

Trying to keep up the pace (Supplied)

Some weeks you’d get it done, but quite often it’d only be two out of the three. I can only applaud those who put in the hard miles for a more sustained period of time because I was about to find out why missing the odd training run can come back to haunt you in hellish ways.

But training’s only half the battle. I felt physically fit. I’d been running consistently for a good couple of years, but marathons don’t just test your legs. If your fuelling’s off, you burn yourself out early on, or if you’re not lathered in factor 50 to face the furnace that is Timperley, your day can quickly unravel as I almost found out the hard way.

When marathon day arrives

It all started, well technically, in my kitchen, with a peanut butter and banana bagel (optimum fuel for a long run, if you take anything from this). But for most of us on race day, the real beginning was Old Trafford — a stadium well-versed in hosting tens of thousands clinging to hope, though the less said about the usual outcome, the better.

A wave of runners get into their stride (Supplied)

For the marathon runners the outlook was a lot more upbeat, even with the sun rearing its sweaty head. There’s a feeling that takes over as your wave is called: each runner wired with anticipation, just desperate to get going. It’s not nerves, more like butterflies without the fear.

Preparing to face 'the wall'

And then suddenly you’re clocking up the miles, running 30 seconds over your target pace, lulled into a false sense of security that maybe, just maybe, you’re going to smash your target time. The excitable crowds are willing you on as you wind through Stretford, into the roaring inferno of Timperley, and eventually up the incline into Altrincham - around mile 11 - which firmly pulls you into check. That’s where the cracks started to form.

Look how hot it is! (Supplied)

And where there are cracks, they’re countered by the incredible crowds lining the streets, willing you on. The volunteers, the charity workers, the locals with hosepipes, and the Mancunians who’ve laid out kerbside buffets - they carry you. It’s underrated how much of a lift it gives you when someone shouts your name from your bib as you grind through the gears.

But after clearing the streets of Sale and into Chorlton, energy gel after energy gel (I took one every four miles), you’re firmly reminded that you cannot outrun biology. And that’s where I met ‘the wall’ and was thrust into a mental battle. You read it beforehand and think, “Will that really happen to me?” and then all of a sudden, you’re clocking miles two minutes slower than when you sprang out of the blocks like a greyhound.

The final stretch of a marathon

It becomes a mental game: Can I hold this pace to the end? You’re glaring at your watch every minute, counting down the miles. I remember one bloke shouting, “It’s only another parkrun!” and somehow, that helped. Then mile 25 hits and your legs find something: a final gear shift before the finish line appears on the horizon, like a mirage in Castaway.

The struggle is very much real (Supplied)

But it turns out the finish line is real and when you cross it for the first time, the emotion is hard to put into words. I didn’t even stop my watch. In that moment, time didn’t matter. What hit me instead was a deep, unwavering sense of achievement, in solidarity with all the fellow runners collapsed around me at the finish line.

Why you shouldn't let your time get you down

I clocked 3 hours 40, after setting out for sub-3:30. But honestly, just getting there was enough. Unless you're an elite, that’s how it should be. The marathon is punishing but ultimately rewarding. Anyone who crosses that line, whether it’s your first, your fifth, or your last, should feel nothing but pride. Because it’s gruelling and tests your body in ways you’ve never experienced.

The Manchester Marathon was an experience like no other. Unforgettable but without doubt: but so unbelievably f*****g hot.

Take part in the 2026 Adidas Manchester Marathon where you can run for charity.