London Marathon Applications Hit Record Levels For The 2027 Race

London Marathon 2027: So Many People Want to Run, They Might Need a Second Planet

If you thought getting a table at a trendy London restaurant was tough, spare a thought for anyone hoping to run the 2027 London Marathon. Organizers have just announced that applications hit a record high, with over half a million people throwing their hats—and their aching knees—into the ring. That’s more applicants than people living in entire cities like Manchester, and it’s making the ballot system look less like a lottery and more like a gladiatorial contest for brunch.

For context, only around 50,000 people actually get to run. That means your odds of success are roughly the same as successfully finding a seat on the Tube during rush hour, without someone’s backpack in your face. Or, as one statistician put it, “You’re more likely to be bitten by a shark while taking a selfie with a startled pigeon.” Still, the dream of wobbling down the Mall in a sweaty tutu is clearly too powerful to resist.

The Great British Bucket List

Why the sudden surge? It’s not just that people are desperate for a medal they can hang next to their Air Fryer. The London Marathon has become the ultimate bucket-list brag, edging out “I’ve seen the Northern Lights” and “I finished a sourdough starter.” Social media is partly to blame: everyone wants the split-screen Reel of them sobbing across the finish line, arms raised, while a charity they supported plays a blaring Ed Sheeran song.

But here’s a surprising fact: the marathon’s popularity isn’t just driven by elite athletes or even weekend joggers. A record number of applicants this year are rank amateurs who, according to a joke circulating in running clubs, “can’t run to the fridge without stopping for a breather.” That’s right—the surge includes people who signed up on a dare after three pints, then had to google “what even is a marathon.” I’m not judging; I once tried to run a 5K and ended up in an Uber halfway through.

When “Yes” Means “Maybe in 2027… or 2028”

The ballot system now has a darkly comedic twist. Successful applicants won’t know they’ve gotten in until spring 2026, which means a full year of anxious waiting. That’s more anticipation than waiting for a KFC delivery during a thunderstorm. One applicant told me, “I’ve already named my potential blisters. I’m calling the left one ‘Hopeful.’” It’s a level of emotional investment usually reserved for reality TV finales.

To cope, desperate runners have started forming “pact teams” on Facebook, where they promise to collectively train if just one gets in. It’s like a pyramid scheme, but with more electrolyte gels and fewer life savings losses. Some are even entering the charity ballot, which costs a small fortune in fundraising but guarantees a place. As one runner put it, “I’ll sell my kidney on the black market if it means running past Big Ben with a free banana.” (Please don’t do that—the NHS has enough problems.)

The Weirdest Reasons People Applied

Let’s talk about the wild reasons people gave for applying this year. An anonymous poll of applicants revealed gems like: “I want to prove to my ex that I can finish something longer than a Netflix series.” Another wrote, “My dog kept giving me judgmental looks while I watched couch-to-5K videos. Now we’re both in for a rude awakening.” Surprise: the dog didn’t apply, but the owner insists they’ll carry it in a baby sling. The marathon committee has thankfully not yet commented on this potential safety hazard.

There’s also the “bucket list braggart” category: people who claim they’re running “to raise money for penguins” when really they just want a cool unicorn-themed costume. I fully support the penguins, but let’s be honest—you’re doing this for the Instagram grid. That’s okay. The I.T. guy who accidentally applied twice because of a glitch? He’s now considering running both a marathon and a half-marathon in the same weekend, “just to see what happens.” (What happens, Dave, is you cry into a bagel.)

What This Means for the Rest of Us

For those of us who didn’t apply—or who wisely decided that “running 26.2 miles” sounds like a typo for “running to the chip shop”—the record applications are actually great news. It means more road closures, more people in spandex screaming at strangers for a high-five, and more inspiring stories of triumph over sensible life choices. You can watch from your sofa, eating crisps, and feel a smug sense of superiority.

And if you’re one of the applicants waiting with bated breath? Here’s a surprising fact: the average London Marathon volunteer gets three times as many high-fives as participants because they can stand there all day. So maybe, while you wait for 2027, consider volunteering. It’s cheaper than the entry fee, you get a free jacket, and you won’t have to run past a mile marker that looks like a billboard for your own regret. Good luck—you’ll need it more than a squirrel in a treadmill.