Sydney Marathon 2025, Running Beyond the Boundaries of Age

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-Every time I cross a finish line and get a medal, I rarely pay it much mind—especially the ribbon. Most of the time, it's just a quick glance. Unless the medal has some unusual gimmick, like spinning, I won't bother with a closer look.

That's exactly what happened in Sydney. I ignored the ribbon, focusing instead on the round medal with the Opera House silhouette at the bottom. (It reminded me of the Mac logo—though I still can't decide if it looks more like an apple bite or a tomato.) Either way, it marked Sydney and the end of this marathon.

It wasn't until a week later, as I was about to put the medal away, that I noticed the ribbon's inscription:

“Cammeraygal. Wangal. Bidjigal. Gadigal. Celebrating the Aboriginal Lands on which We Run.”

The last line gave me a clue, but my curiosity was piqued. With the help of Google, I learned that the suffix “-gal” in the Eora/Dharug languages means "people" or "clan." So these aren't just words; they are the names of Aboriginal clans—the original custodians of Sydney and the lands around Port Jackson.

Gadigal, the clan living on the southern side of Port Jackson, what is now Sydney's city center. Cammeraygal, the clan of the northern shore, including North Sydney, Mosman, Manly, and Kirribilli. Wangal, the clan around the Cooks River, their name linked to the crow. Bidjigal, the clan further inland, around Parramatta and up toward the Hawkesbury.

The Sydney Marathon course—now officially the seventh World Marathon Major—runs right across their country.

Hills, Turns, and Mental Games

Sydney is generous with its hills: plenty of climbs, plenty of descents.

To earn its Major status, the course was re-engineered. The start line now echoes the Sydney 2000 Olympics. Some sharp turns and the early Pyrmont uphill were eliminated. The out-and-backs in Centennial Park were trimmed. Anzac Parade was stretched out to improve running rhythm. And that dreaded uphill on Moore Park Road at 35 km? Gone. The final 6 km are now smoother and faster, leading straight to the Opera House.

Still, what I remember most are the U-turns. There's something unsettling about seeing runners already heading back while you’re still on the "out" section. Sometimes people even shout across the road at their friends: “Oi, I’m ahead of you!” It’s half-joke, half-jab, and it's all part of the mental game.

Running With Age

But the real lesson from running a Major wasn't about the course—it was about the people.

Of nearly 33,000 finishers, around 6,000 were aged 50 and above—a significant 18% of the field. There were 249 runners in their seventies, 5 in their eighties, and the oldest finisher was 87 years old, crossing in about 6 hours and 46 minutes. This is clear proof that age is not a barrier when you have the right preparation and spirit.

Then there was Koichi Kitabatake, who ran in the 90–94 age group. His official time was 7:23:22, beyond the cut-off, but who cares? At ninety, just showing up at the starting line is a victory in itself.

I also saw a blind runner with his guide, moving strong and fast. The flat Sydney roads allowed him to fly. Running, after all, is just as much about courage as it is about sight.

Cold Weather, Clever Organizers

Late winter in Sydney can be harsh, especially for those of us from the tropics. At the start, it was under 10°C, so most runners wore extra layers. Once the race began, jackets and sweaters were tossed aside, piling up along the roadside like fallen leaves.

At the finish line, the organizers showed their smarts. With wide roads, marshals gathered people who wanted to cross, then held runners to one side while the group moved through the middle. A neat “human delta” in the river of marathoners. Simple, clever, and highly effective.

By the fifth hour, the crowd had thinned. The official cut-off was seven hours, but most had already trickled in.

Looking Ahead

If you're tempted by Sydney, the ballot for the 2026 race opens on September 24, 2025, with race day on Sunday, August 30, 2026.

For now, the medal rests in its box. The Opera House silhouette reminds me of the finish line. The ribbon, with its Aboriginal names, reminds me of something bigger: that running is more than a sport—it's a connection to history, community, and the quiet courage of people, young and old, moving forward one step at a time.