Running the London Marathon: From Dream to Reality

Running the London Marathon: From Dream to Reality

As a child growing up, the London Marathon wasn’t just a race. It was the marathon—magical, mythical, and, as a working-class kid, completely out of reach. It felt like a distant dream, something other people did. Something the parents of my middle-class friends did to raise sums of money that were too vast for my young brain to comprehend. It was the stuff of television: elite East African runners gliding effortlessly through the streets of London while thousands of spectators cheered them on. I watched it in awe, year after year, but it always felt like it belonged to someone else’s world.

That feeling of being an outsider wasn’t new to me. Growing up mixed race in a predominantly white area, I was always aware of how different I looked and felt compared to the people around me. I often felt like I didn’t quite fit in, like I was navigating a space that wasn’t entirely mine. Whether it was in school, social settings, or the sports I played, I was constantly trying to figure out where I belonged. The world I saw on TV—the world of the London Marathon—seemed even further removed, a place for people who looked nothing like me, whose lives were nothing like mine.

When I began running a couple of years ago, I learned about ballot places for the London Marathon. I discovered how slim the chances were of getting selected, and that sense of the race being for other people persisted. Even as I grew as a runner, the London Marathon felt distant—something shiny and unattainable, still cloaked in the biases of my childhood.

Then there was the question of road running itself. As I found my stride as a runner, I naturally gravitated toward trails. Forests, mountains, rivers, and the natural world became my sanctuary. Trail running felt like home—a safe space where my anxiety and autism melted into the rhythm of the earth beneath my feet. The thought of pounding the streets of London, surrounded by throngs of people, felt overwhelming and far removed from the tranquil escapes I had come to love.

But I’m no stranger to performing in front of crowds. Rugby was my first love, and I’ve played in front of audiences—many of whom were far less supportive than a marathon crowd, with opposing fans often jeering from the sidelines. Rugby was different, though. I started playing at the age of five, and it became my safe space. It was a flow state, a place where I could lose myself and feel completely at ease. Running on the roads, with the deafening roar of the London crowd, feels daunting in comparison.

Yet, this is the London Marathon. The big one. The only marathon I knew as a child. And somehow, this year, I will be running it. Even now, it doesn’t feel real.

Finding My “Why”

I firmly believe that in order to successfully commit to something, you need to know your “why.” What’s driving you? Why are you doing this? That “why” might shift and evolve as you progress toward your goal, but it has to be there, anchoring you through the highs and lows.

Would I be running the London Marathon if it weren’t for Black Trail Runners? Probably not. It’s that simple. Black Trail Runners turned this dream into a reality for me. They gave me the sense of belonging I needed to take on something I once believed wasn’t for me.

Growing up, I didn’t see many people who looked like me in the spaces I wanted to occupy. Whether it was in the classroom, on the rugby pitch, or in the running world, I often felt like I had to carve out a place for myself. Black Trail Runners has changed that for me. They’ve created a space where people like me—people who have been made to feel like they don’t belong—can show up, thrive, and take up space unapologetically.

And that’s where my motivation lies. It’s about the community. It’s about representation. It’s about being part of something bigger than myself. Black Trail Runners has shown me that the London Marathon isn’t just for the elite or the privileged—it’s for anyone who dares to step forward. It’s for people like me, and it’s for the next person who needs to see someone like them taking up space on that start line.

Confronting Doubt and Embracing the Moment

Do I feel like I belong there? Honestly, I don’t know. That doubt creeps in, whispering that I’m out of place, that the marathon is still for other people. But that doubt? That’s exactly why I need to be there. The fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming sense of stepping into the unknown—it’s all part of the journey.

Am I chasing a time? Yes and no. I want to go into this race fit, healthy, and ready to give it my best. But I also want to be present. I want to soak in the atmosphere, savour every step, and take in the magic of running through the streets of London—the very streets I watched on TV as a child.

A Dream Realized

Running the London Marathon will be the culmination of so many things—a childhood dream, a new chapter in my running journey, and a step forward for representation. I know it won’t be easy. I know the crowds will be loud, the nerves will be real, and the miles will feel long. But I also know that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

And so, I’ll run—not just for me but for the community that made this possible. I’ll run to represent, to inspire, and to prove that the London Marathon belongs to all of us.

For every step I take, I hope there’s someone out there who sees themselves in me. Someone who thinks, If they can do it, maybe I can too. Because that’s my why.

I am completing the London Marathon on the 27th April 2025 Fundraising for Black Trail Runners - If you want to sponsor me please use the following link:

https://2025tcslondonmarathon.enthuse.com/pf/liam-cooper-king

More on Black Trail Runners : https://www.blacktrailrunners.run/