Picture this: a man named Bill, age 68, in a giant rhino costume. He finished in 7 hours and 14 minutes. He didn’t care about the average. He cared about hi-fiving kids and raising money for rhino conservation. His time was legendary because he showed up. And showing up is harder than any number.
Or take Emma, who ran her first marathon after having a baby. Her goal was simple: “Don’t stop, and don’t wet myself.” She finished in 5 hours flat, and her toddler gave her a soggy cracker at the finish line. That’s the real victory. The average time is just a fact for trivia night or a pub quiz—but the personal time is your medal.
London Marathon 2026: A Data Round up — Geeks on Feet
What Can You Learn From The Average?
Honestly? Not much. But it’s a fun benchmark. If you’re thinking about signing up, know this: the average time is a gentle guide, not a rule. Think of it like the suggested serving size on a packet of crisps—most people ignore it and eat the whole bag anyway.
If you’re a faster runner, the average might push you to train a bit harder. If you’re a slower runner, it reminds you that you’re still part of the story. The real magic is that 42,000 people run the same route, but every single one has a different race. Some are flying, some are shuffling, and some are dressed as a London bus.
