When Does London Marathon 2027 Ballot Open

Right, let’s talk about 2027. I know, I know—it feels like we’ve only just put the Christmas decorations away, and someone’s already asking about a run that’s two years away. But here’s the thing: if you’ve ever fancied yourself as one of those glorious souls limping past Big Ben in a sweaty vest, you need to pay attention now.

The Big Question (and the Big Answer)

When does the London Marathon 2027 ballot open? The official word is that the ballot for the 2027 TCS London Marathon will open in April 2026—specifically, around the last week of that month. Yes, you read that right. You’ll be signing up for a race that’s two birthdays away.

Think of it like booking a popular holiday cottage in Cornwall. You don’t ring up on a sunny Tuesday in August and say, “Got any availability for next week?” You book it a year in advance, cross your fingers for the weather, and spend the next twelve months daydreaming about pasties. The marathon ballot is your cottage booking—except instead of a cream tea, you get a medal and a very sore pair of legs.

Why You Should Care Right Now (Even If You’re on the Sofa)

Here’s the deal: the London Marathon ballot is insanely competitive. Every year, hundreds of thousands of people apply for a tiny sliver of places—some reckon it’s a one-in-five chance. It’s like trying to get a table at that trendy restaurant where your mate’s cousin works, except there’s no backdoor favouritism.

You might be thinking, “I’m not even a runner. I just power-walk to the kettle.” That’s fine! The ballot doesn’t care if you run a four-hour marathon or a six-hour shuffle. It is the great equaliser. One minute you’re buying a lottery ticket on a rainy Tuesday; the next, you’re telling your colleagues you’ll be running past the Cutty Sark.

A Little Story to Make You Smile

My neighbour Dave once entered the ballot on a whim. He was forty, a bit soft around the middle, and his main hobby was watching rugby with a pint. He got a place, panicked, and spent six months running in the dark like a guilty teenager. On race day, he crossed the finish line in just over five hours, cried a bit, and now has a photo of himself grinning next to a man dressed as a toilet. That is the magic of the ballot. It turns normal people into heroes—or at least into people with excellent photo albums.

The ballot opens for a limited window—usually about a week in late April 2026. You don’t need to run a qualifying time, you don’t need to be part of an elite club. You just need to fill in a form, pay a small fee (around £30-£40), and hope the random number generator is feeling generous.

How to Prepare (Without Breaking a Sweat)

First, mark your calendar right now for April 2026. Yes, it seems bonkers, but set a recurring reminder on your phone that says “Marathon Ballot—don’t be a plank.” Secondly, make sure you have a credit card handy and an email address you actually check. Nothing worse than winning the lottery and missing the confirmation email because it went to your spam folder alongside dodgy adverts for fake watches.

Finally, have a conversation with your future self. In 2027, you’ll either be the person who ran London Marathon, or the person who explains to strangers at parties, “I nearly entered the ballot but I forgot.” Which one sounds better? Exactly.

The Soft Reminder for the Cautious

If you’re reading this on a cosy Sunday afternoon, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea, I get it. Committing to something two years away feels a bit like promising to reorganise your sock drawer—easy to put off. But the ballot is low-risk. You enter, you forget about it, and then one day you get a magical email that changes your year.

And even if you don’t get a place, the ballot is still a win. It gives you a tiny spark of hope every time you see a runner in the park. It makes you think, “Maybe next year.” And that’s a lovely thing to carry around, like a secret you only share with yourself.

A Final Nudge from the Sofa

So, to sum it up: the London Marathon 2027 ballot opens in April 2026. Write it down, stick a sticky note on your fridge, or tattoo it on your arm if you’re the committed type. Set an alarm for that week, grab a brew, and fill out the form. You’ve got nothing to lose except a tiny entry fee, and everything to gain—including the right to casually drop, “Oh, I ran London” into conversations for the rest of your life.

Trust me, it’s worth it. Even if you’re just doing it for the medal and the free banana at the finish line. Go on. You know you want to.