The art of being an empath during Marathons

Now that spring has sprung, the sun brings with it the return of marathon season, sweeping the nation one weekend at a time. Recently, our very own streets welcomed the Sheffield Marathon, quickly followed by Manchester and now London, and judging by the abundance of TikToks flooding my For You Page, I can’t be the only one noticing just how quickly these events turn into something unexpectedly emotional.

More obviously, for the runners themselves, this is the moment they have been waiting for.

Every rainy morning 5K and every cramping calf has led to this, only for it all to be over within a matter of hours. With so much of their training happening alone, it’s easy to underestimate just how overwhelming it is to suddenly share that pain and pride with thousands of like-minded strangers. Though only public for less than a day, the emotion on display comes not just from the 26.2 miles, but from every step that came beforehand.

There is no escape for the spectators either. Every runner passing by represents endless

possibilities for why they are there. Are they chasing a personal best? How much have they

raised for charity? Could they have simply lost a bet and been too stubborn to bow out? Each of these strangers’ lives collide in a single moment, and though we don’t know their stories, we still share their determination. Everyone out there is doing something many of us could never imagine attempting, so whether sprinting, limping, or even crawling over the finish line, their pride becomes contagious. Seeing someone at the edge of exhaustion yet still putting one foot in front of the other, is inspiring to say the least.

Every individual’s emotion is amplified to a collective empathy that is as much a part of the day as the handmade signs, extravagant costumes, and speakers on the corner of every street. There is something quietly extraordinary about this kind of collective joy, and the way an entire city can come together to support people simply refusing to stop moving. For a few hours, normal life is paused, and in its place is something far bigger than one individual. People cheer for strangers, the crowd grows to be a part of the race itself, and emotion becomes something to be openly shared. This feeling lingers long after the roads reopen, proving that community is sometimes enough.

Edited by Daisy Coombs