It’s officially nearly race week. And while most London Marathon runners are spending this week tapering, carb loading and brimming with excitement and nerves, I’m…. writing this.
I’m a runner who spent most of last year looking forward to the London Marathon 2025 and a Health Editor who couldn’t wait to bank her tenth – and hopefully fastest – 26.2 miles.
But I’m also a human. A human who’s acutely aware that her injury hasn’t allowed her enough time to acclimatise to the physical and mental toll that the marathon distance takes.
Sadly, I won’t be making the start line of the 2025 London Marathon – and it’s not a decision that I’ve taken lightly.
The whole process has been bittersweet, mind-bogglingly difficult, and incredibly, incredibly challenging. I feel like I’ve had a Tom & Jerry sketch playing out in real time in my head – on the one hand, the devil is telling me that I’ve run regularly enough for the past ten years. I *could* get around, achieve the seemingly impossible, and experience the joyous, unfiltered energy of that finish line one more time.
The finish line of a marathon is the most alive you’ll ever feel. You see the very best of humanity and experience every emotion.
But I’ve had to accept that it isn’t my time. And I’m okay with that.
(Image credit: Future)
The sensible angel on my other shoulder knows, deep down, that it’s too big a risk. I broke my foot roughly four months ago, and while I’ve been religious with my physio exercises, strength training workouts, and return to running, that doesn’t mean my body is ready to tackle 26.2 miles.
The penny dropped crossing the finish line of the London Landmarks Half Marathon a few weeks ago. It was my longest run of the year and my first race of 2025. I enjoyed every single minute of it – the cheer squads were on fire, the route circled some of the city’s most iconic landmarks, and the sun shone for us.
But an hour and 32 minutes of running at a pretty hard effort was enough to remind me just how far double that is. My Dad always used to tell me to respect the distance. And I don’t think heading into my tenth marathon having run no further than half the distance is the best way to respect the distance my body.
There’s a reason so few people in the world will complete a marathon in their lifetimes. It’s an unbelievable physical achievement and an athletic feat – something which you need to train for, for a whole host of reasons.
(Image credit: Future)
And as a Health Editor who’s spent her career advising you, our readers, to listen to your bodies, prioritise rest and recovery, and respect your base fitness, it feels hypocritical to throw caution to the wind and lace up next weekend.
I’m aware it doesn’t make for the best column or story. I’ve never DNF’d or pulled out of a race before in my life. And I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t played a part in the agonising “Should I? Shouldn’t I?” that’s been playing on repeat in my head.
Am I letting you, our readers, down, if I don’t make it to the start line? Am I showing you that anything is possible, if you put your mind to it? And am I inspiring a nation of women to shoot for the stars, tackle life head-on, and smash physical challenges that scare them?
No. I’m not. But I am proving that life doesn’t always go to plan. That there’s strength in knowing your limits. And that your health, above all else, is the number one priority.
Am I letting you, our readers, down, if I don’t make it to the start line? Am I showing you that anything is possible, if you put your mind to it?
@allyyyhead
♬ Northern Attitude – Noah Kahan & Hozier
I also hope I’m showing you that life isn’t an Instagram highlights reel. Injuries happen. Plans change. That doesn’t make you any lesser than, and it doesn’t mean any of it was your fault. All you can control is how you react, how you grow, and how you keep on keeping on.
I still believe that anything is possible. And I hope I’m still an example of that. I’m delighted to share that I’ll be running the Valencia Marathon in December for my long-awaited tenth marathon. And I can tell you now that I won’t take a second of it for granted.
While I’ve no doubt I’ll get back to PB fitness – the fire has officially been lit – that time isn’t now. And there’s power, strength, and peace to be found in knowing your body, adapting to pain-in-the-ass challenges, and being okay with it all, too.
(Image credit: Ally Head)
I’m not defined by my ability to complete this race. I am enough. And so are you, if injury has ever stopped you from following your dreams.
I’m not defined by my ability – or lack of ability, in this case – to complete this race. I am enough. And so are you, if injury has ever stopped you from following your dreams.
This isn’t the comeback. But it does mean that the eventual comeback will be bigger and better than ever.
To all of you runners getting ready to lace up a week today, I’ll be rooting for you and cheering you on from miles nine, eighteen and 21. Remember to trust in your training, run strong, and enjoy every minute. You’re all heroes in my eyes, and I can’t wait to be a small part of your race day (don’t worry – I’ll bring emergency gels and sweets).
And to all of you who’ve tuned in every other Sunday to read my marathon training chronicles, thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s been a total joy to share this process with you, and cathartic, to say the least. Now, question: Who’d be up for another iteration of the column come August when the Valencia training starts?
To read more of Ally’s Road To Recovery column, where she explains her injury, how surprised she’s been at her love of low impact alternatives, and her lazy girl’s guide to recovery, click here.