If you’re like me, you’re not winning the marathon. You’re surviving it. The official cutoff time is 7:33 p.m.—that’s roughly 7:30 in the evening. Yes, you read that right: some people will still be shuffling along the Embankment when the street lamps flick on.
I once saw a bloke cross the finish line at 6:45 p.m. wearing a full gorilla suit. He wasn’t running; he was waddling. His beard was a sweat waterfall, and a kind volunteer handed him a banana. That’s the real finish time—the moment you realise you’re a hero in a costume, even if your knees sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies.
The “I’ll Just Watch” Crowd
Here’s the thing: the finish time isn’t just for runners. It’s for the spectators—the friends, family, and random strangers who’ve been standing in the same spot for four hours. You know the type. They’ve brought a camping chair, a packet of soggy crisps, and a sign that says “You’re not slow, you’re just marinating.”
The finish area, near Buckingham Palace, starts emptying out around 5:00 p.m. because the most dedicated support crew have to go home and feed their cats. But the real action? That’s between 3:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. That’s when the “fun runners” arrive—people who did the race for a bet, a charity, or because their friend dared them after three pints.
I remember watching a woman cross the finish line at 4:22 p.m. She immediately collapsed into a heap, then looked up and said, “Is there a pub nearby?” That’s the spirit. She finished just in time for happy hour.
Meet the 2026 London Marathon winners, including Sebastian Sawe
