London Landmarks Half Marathon Start Time

So there I was, at 6:45 AM on a drizzly Sunday, huddled near the start line in Greenwich Park. I’d set three alarms, downed a cold cup of instant coffee, and was now questioning every life choice that led me to stand shivering in a pair of tiny shorts. A guy next to me, looking far too chipper, slurped a gel packet and said, “First time?” I grunted. He smiled. “Just remember—the start time is the only thing London gives you for free.”

That start time—it’s the unsung hero of the London Landmarks Half Marathon. You’d think the Big Ben backdrop or the Tower Bridge finish line would be the main event, but nope. It all hinges on that one golden moment when the horn blasts and you realize you actually woke up. (Or, in my case, when you realize you’re still half-asleep and running on stubbornness.)

When exactly does this carnival start?

For the London Landmarks Half Marathon, the official start time typically falls in a window between 9:00 AM and 9:30 AM. Yes, that’s a “wave start”—a fancy way of saying not everyone gets to launch at the same second. The elites usually go first, like gazelles released from a cage, followed by the mortals (us) in color-coded waves every few minutes.

But here’s the kicker: your specific wave time is printed right on your bib. Do not lose that bib. I once saw a woman panic-taping hers to her leg because she spilled tea on it. (Pro tip: laminate it if you’re clumsy like me.)

The exact start time can shift slightly year to year due to road closures, security checks, or what I suspect is the organizers’ secret love of chaos. Always check the official app or website the night before—don’t be “that person” who shows up at 8:00 AM and waits two hours in the rain.

Why the early bird truly gets the race

You might be thinking, “9:00 AM isn’t that early—I wake up for work at 6!” But this isn’t work, my friend. This is a 13.1-mile tour through central London, past Westminster Abbey, the Gherkin, and St. Paul’s Cathedral. The start time dictates everything: traffic cones, spectator crowds, and the precise moment when the sun decides to roast you or hide behind a cloud.

Historically, the race has been held in early April—a month famous in London for doing all four seasons in one day. A 9:15 AM start means you’re dodging morning drizzle but catching the first real warmth. (Or, as happened in 2023, a hailstorm that made everyone look like running snowmen.)

One year, the start was delayed 20 minutes because a swan refused to move from the road. I am not joking. The marshals treated it like a diplomatic incident. So yes, be flexible—London’s landmarks have priorities, and you are not always at the top of the list.

The great “where do I line up?” debate

Your wave assignment is based on your predicted finish time from your registration. If you lied about your time—and roughly 40% of runners do—you’ll either start too fast and burn out, or you’ll stand behind a marching band for a mile. (Yes, there’s often a marching band. They play “Eye of the Tiger.” It’s wonderful.)

So show up at 8:00 AM minimum. That gives you an hour for bag drop, portaloos, and that existential crisis when you realize you forgot your knee brace. The start area is usually open from 7:00 AM, so if you’re the type who needs a warm-up like a professional athlete, go hog wild. I’ll be the guy sipping water and wondering if I can hire a personal stretcher.

Your start time also affects road closures. Roads reopen in chunks starting from 10:30 AM, so if you’re a slow runner—like, say, me—you might find yourself dodging buses by the final mile. The volunteers hold signs that say “You’re almost there!” but their eyes say “Please hurry, I have brunch plans.”

What the start time means for spectators

If you’re watching (bless you, support teams), the first wave is your window. Cheer at the start line around 9:00 AM, then sprint (or tube) to the Embankment for that iconic Big Ben backdrop shot by 9:45. The elites will be flying past—blink and you’ll miss them, just a blur of neon and determination.

By 10:30 AM, the halfway point gets crowded with slower runners, which is actually more fun. Trust me. You’ll see people in tutus, someone carrying a gnome (“Sir Gnome-a-lot” is a regular), and at least three friends wearing inflatable crowns. The start time is your scheduling anchor—plan your coffee and croissant run accordingly.

A final, slightly unhinged note

Set your alarm for 5:30 AM if you’re driving into London. Yes, that’s painful. But the alternative is circling for an hour in Hackney muttering things your mother wouldn’t approve of. Public transport usually opens early for the race, with extra trains running from 6:00 AM—check Transport for London because they love changing schedules at the last minute.

And whatever you do, don’t rely on your phone’s GPS at the start. The signal gets so thick with 20,000 people it’s like shouting into a pillow. Write your wave time on your hand. Or your forehead. (I recommend non-toxic marker.)

So be there, be early, and remember: that start time is a promise from London. A promise of cobblestones, cheers, and perhaps a swan holding up the traffic. You just have to show up before the swan does.