What It’s Really Like to Chase the Six World Marathon Majors
Some people plan holidays around beaches. I plan mine around marathons.
When I first heard about the Abbott World Marathon Majors—the six most iconic races across the globe—I thought it was just a lofty bucket list for elite runners. But after Tokyo and Chicago, I realized: it’s not just about pace. It’s about the people, the rituals, the ridiculous costumes in London, the heartbreak hills in Boston, and the lottery luck we cling to year after year.
Getting into any of the six isn’t easy. Boston is famously strict with BQ (Boston Qualifying) standards—each year the cut-off gets tighter, like it’s testing your patience as much as your pace. Tokyo? You’ll need nerves of steel (and sometimes a bank transfer) for the charity draw. Berlin is a speedster’s dream. New York makes you feel like you’re running through a five-borough street party. And London? It’s the most absurdly delightful mix of history, hills, and hope I’ve ever experienced.
This year, I managed to tick off my third major. I packed light—just a change of kit, fuel gels, and my lightweight expandable backpack that fits neatly under airplane seats and expands just enough to hold a weekend’s worth of sweat and finishers’ medals.
There’s something strange that happens after your second or third major. It’s no longer about beating your PB. You start to notice how different each city celebrates running. In some places, the crowds scream your name like they’ve known you for years. In others, it’s the volunteers who get you through mile 22 with nothing but a smile and a cup of Gatorade. You find community among strangers, and pace doesn’t matter as much as presence.
And maybe that’s the real finish line.
