Australia is about as far away as you can get. I like that.
– André Benjamin
(Long story short, 2024 was a rough year for me personally. As John Lennon noted, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” But I hope to make up ground here in 2025, starting right where we left off…)
As compelling tourist destinations go, Sydney lands near the top of my list. Australia’s largest city is a gem, from its world-famous beaches to its native wildlife to its iconic cityscape featuring beloved landmarks like the Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. So when it came time to choose a marathon in Oceania as part of my seven continents quest, naturally I gravitated toward… the tiny neighboring nation of New Zealand.
Nothing against Sydney or its parent country, which I assumed we’d make time to visit after our stay in New Zealand. But since completing my fifth continent in Tokyo/Asia in 2019, and with a global pandemic effectively shutting down international travel for two years, I’d had plenty of time to mull over marathon options in Oceania. And having spent two memorable weeks in New Zealand—as compared to two days in Sydney—on our honeymoon in 2004, I’d been leaning toward a return trip to Queenstown or even a first visit to the bustling port city of Auckland.
Truth is, I’d given surprisingly little thought to running a marathon in Australia. Despite its cosmopolitan appeal and its status as the largest city in Oceania, Sydney’s hometown marathon had always kept a relatively low profile on the world stage. In fact, as recently as 2022 it wasn’t even the largest marathon in its own country, with both Melbourne (6,215) and the Gold Coast (4,059) boasting higher finisher numbers than Sydney (3,452). Based on its online reviews, the Sydney Marathon had always struck me from afar as a scenic but immature urban marathon with too many out-and-back sections.
Then the World Marathon Majors came calling, and faster than you could say “kookaburra” everything changed.
On July 27, 2022, the powers-that-be announced Sydney as the newest candidate for the prestigious Abbott World Marathon Majors, a series comprising six of the world’s most popular marathons in Berlin, Boston, Chicago, London, New York City, and Tokyo. Along with the Cape Town Marathon, which had likewise been announced as a candidate race 15 months earlier, Sydney would be evaluated on a three-year timeline with an eye toward joining the Majors in 2025. For two years in a row, race organizers would need to step up their game and satisfy a checklist of 104 criteria; one of the most challenging would be a requirement for 15,000+ finishers, more than three times Sydney’s previous high of 4,493 in 2019.
Satisfy all 104 criteria for two years in a row, and Bob’s your uncle!
And so, more than two decades after its inaugural running as a legacy of the 2000 Summer Olympics, the Sydney Marathon set about transforming itself—almost overnight—into a World Marathon Major. Immediately on social media the organizers promised “an increase in entertainment on the course, with a vastly improved race-day experience, cheered on by more people and more runners celebrating Sydney.” Such a transformation would also necessitate dramatic changes to the marathon course itself.
In short, success would demand that the Sydney Marathon finally live up to the sparkling reputation of its world-class host city.
For years I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the Majors, culminating in an anticlimactic experience at my sixth and final Major in London in April 2023. So it wasn’t until months after the announcement of its candidacy that my own interest in running Sydney was piqued. That was when the marathon organizers, in partnership with our friends at Marathon Tours & Travel, reached out to RaceRaves to ask for our help in promoting Sydney to our largely American audience of traveling runners. Needless to say, we were thrilled to join the team that (fingers crossed) would help Sydney rise to the occasion and achieve World Marathon Major status. We’d even had the opportunity to sit for a pint in London with the man himself, long-time Sydney race director Wayne Larden.
With that, Katie and I seized on this golden opportunity to visit Australia, notch our sixth continent, and judge for ourselves Sydney’s readiness to join the Majors. New Zealand would have to wait.
And so it was we found ourselves touching down in Sydney on Thursday, Sept 14, just over 15 hours after we’d boarded a nonstop flight from Los Angeles two days earlier. Thanks to the time-warping power of the International Date Line, we’d essentially skipped Wednesday. Fortunately, our decision to fly business class using mileage points had made (literally) a world of difference by ensuring that the seemingly forever flight had been as comfortable as humanly possible.
Getting to Know Sydney
Arriving early Thursday morning, we checked into our room at The Four Seasons Sydney and immediately set about exploring one of the world’s most beautiful cities.
(It may sound indulgent, and maybe it is… but a spacious room at The Four Seasons Sydney overlooking Sydney Harbour and the Sydney Opera House cost less than—and this is not a typo—our unassuming room at the Holiday Inn & Suites in Duluth, MN for Grandma’s Marathon weekend. The American dollar travels well.)
We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in The Rocks, a charming neighborhood near the Sydney Harbour Bridge where a large and attractive Australian white ibis (aka “bin chicken” to the locals) played opportunistic scavenger beneath vacated sidewalk tables, a role typically filled by pigeons in American cities. Then, before the long shadow of jet lag could overtake us, we headed to the pre-race expo to avoid the bustling crowds that the weekend would inevitably bring.
One Uber and a short shuttle ride later we arrived at The Venue Alexandria, host venue for the Sydney Marathon Running Show. The expo, which was surprisingly small and easy to navigate, will no doubt see tremendous growth in the future as Sydney embraces its (spoiler alert) newfound World Marathon Major status. I didn’t count vendors along the U-shaped loop, but the overall expo felt much smaller than its promised collection of “over 75 booths with 35 quality exhibitors,” including an empty stage presumably intended for guest speakers. The entire scene felt more like packet pickup at a midsize American marathon, as all I received was an envelope containing my bib number and a few safety pins, with finisher shirts available—as the name implies—at the finish line.
Located at the expo entrance, the ASICS official merchandise area set the tone with its disappointing lack of marathon-branded merch, suggesting ASICS had signed on as the presenting sponsor too late to meaningfully expand its inventory of Sydney apparel. In any case, this felt like a huge mi$$ed opportunity, though I did manage to come away with a lightweight Sydney Marathon-branded running tee that I’m actually wearing as I write this.
After a rejuvenating night’s rest in one of the most comfortable hotel beds on the planet, Friday began with a beautiful solo shakeout run along Sydney Harbour and past the Botanic Gardens to Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair, a sandstone city landmark that offers unmatched views of the Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House.
Sydney boasts an impressive number of world-class zoos and wildlife parks, several of which we’d visit—and all of which we’d recommend—during our stay. After my shakeout run, we grabbed lunch and hopped a ferry across the harbor to Taronga Zoo, home to more than 4,000 fascinating animals including Australian pelicans (the continent’s largest flying bird), kangaroos, wallabies, western lowland gorillas, a Sumatran tiger, and of course, koalas 🐨
September (aka early spring) is a terrific time to visit Sydney, as it precedes Australia’s peak season and the arrival of cruise ships full of international tourists. As such, we had each of the local zoos largely to ourselves, a luxury that allowed us to avoid crowds, observe the animals without human interference, and converse at length with several zookeepers.
That evening we returned to The Rocks to dine along Sydney Harbour, where we were treated to an unforgettable display of fireworks above the Sydney Opera House. Even to this long-time fireworks skeptic, the colorful spectacle staged on the backdrop of the city’s most iconic landmark was mesmerizing and the stuff of promotional tourism videos.
And speaking of fireworks, in recent days a smoky haze had blanketed the city courtesy of controlled hazard-reduction burns, a strategy used to reduce the amount of flammable foliage and mitigate the risk of destructive blazes during wildfire season. Coming from California I applauded the city’s foresight; however, the timing meant that in the days leading up to the marathon, Sydney’s air quality would be among the worst in the world. Why they couldn’t have timed these burns for the weekend before or after the marathon, I have no idea.
As if wildfire smoke weren’t enough, the race day forecast also called for unseasonably high temperatures approaching 32°C (90°F). On the bright side, the high heat would be accompanied by low humidity. I don’t mind high heat (to a point), but high humidity on race day is a stone-cold killah.
The organizers had emailed us on Thursday with weather and air quality updates, along with the helpful reminder that “If there is poor air quality, NSW [New South Wales] Health recommends that people reduce or avoid outdoor physical activity.” You mean, like running a marathon?
On Saturday we ferried north of Sydney Harbour to spend a few blissful hours on Manly Beach (“Manly” being a reference to its location, not necessarily its clientele), an idyllic 3-km stretch of white sand and a mecca for local surfers. And that evening, we accepted a generous invite from our friends at Marathon Tours & Travel (with whom we’d worked to promote the Sydney Marathon) to crash their pasta carbo-load at the Hotel Intercontinental Sydney.
I enjoy the diverse and accomplished cast of characters we meet through Marathon Tours and this was no exception, with one fellow in attendance having run 428 marathons and counting. (On a side note, call it anecdotal but whenever I meet someone with a triple-digit marathon total, they always seem to be wearing Boston Marathon apparel.) Like other runners I’ve met on my seven continents quest, the folks in Sydney were decidedly more chill than their counterparts at the six World Marathon Majors. I expect that dynamic will change somewhat as Sydney prepares to host its own AWMM coming-out party in 2025, though hopefully the race remains popular with the seven continents crowd.
Sydney “Struts” Its Stuff
On Sunday I awoke at 4:45am ready to roll after a near-hedonistic seven hours of sleep. In the silent harbor below, the burgeoning orange glow on the horizon chased the darkness and backlit the shadowy sails of the Sydney Opera House.
Marathon start time would be 7:10am, following the half marathon at 5:45am and the 10K at 6:05am. The morning forecast called for temperatures to reach the low 80s by 11:30am, around the time I planned to cross the finish line. Having trained through the humid summer months, I wasn’t overly concerned.
On a more positive note, the smoke from the bush fires had dissipated, giving way to clear skies and the promise of a beautiful spring day. Sure, I’d dial back my effort to compensate for the heat, but I didn’t expect a shitstorm on the level of London.
I didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary at the start line, so after eating and dressing I strolled leisurely to Circular Quay, the main ferry terminal located a 5-minute walk from our hotel. There I boarded a 6:30am ferry (again courtesy of Marathon Tours) which transported several other stragglers and me across the harbor to North Sydney, where we passed quietly beneath the towering steel, concrete, and granite form of the Sydney Harbour Bridge before deboarding at Milsons Point.
Glancing back, I briefly admired the view of the city skyline across the harbor. “See you soon,” I murmured before making the short walk uphill to a small park teeming with runners, aka the staging area. My timing was perfect, as we were immediately herded onto the main road over which an arch-shaped sign welcomed us to North Sydney. There, on a slight uphill grade, we awaited the start with 17,000 other runners. Without having to queue for the porta-potties (which I later heard were a bit chaotic), my journey from hotel room to start line had been smooth sailing (pun intended, and no worries if you don’t like my dad jokes—I don’t harbor grudges).
In between “Get Lucky” by Daft Punk and “Firework” by Katy Perry (apparently a start line staple even in Australia), a didgeridoo player on a raised platform within our “B” corral entertained the crowd. (Enjoy the didge, then run the bridge!). Swiveling my head in all directions, I tried to envision this overcrowded postage stamp of grass-phalt straining to accommodate the 35,000+ participants of a World Marathon Major.
Fortunately, I didn’t have long to ponder as the PA announcer counted down—notably minus the fanfare of the national anthem, unlike American races—and sent us on our way. Flames bellowed from alongside the start line as the “A” corral runners merged onto the road ahead followed by our “B” corral.
The whole operation went smoothly enough, and moments later continent #6 was underway on a gorgeous morning under brilliant blue skies. Leaving Milsons Point and heading north, we’d barely had time to break a sweat (even on this warm day) before the course narrowed and then circled back in the direction we’d come, leading us under and up onto the Sydney Harbour Bridge for one of the most glorious and memorable stretches of the day.
Crossing one of the world’s most iconic structures, I appreciated that this was all happening early in the race while we still had the energy to enjoy it. Running in the center of the roadbed meant minimal views of the azure swath of harbor below us; rather, our scenery was limited in large part to the crisscrossing steel girders of the lattice arch directly above our heads. The massive arch had begun its life as two halves, which in August 1930 had been assembled on opposite sides of the harbor before being joined and stabilized in the middle to create the finished arch. Nineteen months later, in March 1932, the ceremonial ribbon was cut and the Sydney Harbour Bridge officially opened for business.
Glancing to my left, the spectators lining the wide roadbed felt comically far away. Exhilarating as this stretch was, it didn’t (understandably) boast the electrifying energy of Tower Bridge, one of the loudest and most raucous stretches on the London Marathon course. I did, however, prefer it to the crowded opening stretch across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge at the NYC Marathon which, after hours of waiting for the start, had been a study in sheer adrenaline. (For what it’s worth, the Golden Gate Bridge crossing in mile 8 of the San Francisco Marathon may be my favorite bridge segment of any race, as it affords epic views of sunrise over Alcatraz and the SF Bay.)
Running behind someone dressed as Spider-Man (or maybe he was the real McCoy, who am I to judge?), I heard an excited shout from one of the younger spectators: “Spider-Man! It’s Spidey!” And now you know the truth, kid—real heroes run marathons.
As the bridge itself ended and the water below us transitioned to concrete and bitumen, the elevated roadbed carried us past soaring glass and steel edifices like the Hotel W, its radically curved face designed to resemble a wave. Feeling somewhat seasick alongside its hulking presence, I shifted my attention to the other side of the road where the sparkling waters of Darling Harbour shimmied in the morning light.
Exiting onto city streets, we continued through the Pyrmont neighborhood. Attractive red-brick buildings garnered my attention as we followed tree-lined roads bathed in dappled sunlight. At one point, we were treated to a view in the distance of the city skyline under the watchful eye of—well, the Sydney Tower Eye, the tallest structure in Sydney and the second-tallest observation tower in the Southern Hemisphere.
For the most part, with 14,000 marathoners in 2023 the streets of Sydney felt sufficiently wide and runnable, unlike Berlin and London. How those same streets will fare when the city welcomes 35,000 runners in 2025, that is the question.
Starting at 5km, I resolved to sip a cup of water at most of the aid stations. If I played it smart and stayed hydrated, the heat shouldn’t overly impact my performance. As it turns out, the initial aid station would be a sign of things to come, and an ominous one at that. The first water table I reached was already empty as the volunteers filled empty cups as quickly as possible. Grabbing a half-filled cup, I took a few sips and then tossed it aside, passing several other tables where full cups of water sat untouched. Clearly what was needed here was one or two vocal volunteers to direct traffic and encourage runners to bypass the first table, as larger American races do. This would have eased the flow of traffic through the early aid stations at least, even if it wouldn’t necessarily have avoided the chaos awaiting us at later stations.
And yes, there would be chaos.
Darling, You Look Marvelous
Circling along the waterfront, we reached a turnaround point in the shadow of the Anzac Bridge, its steel cables radiating out like spider webs from concrete piers. Heading back the way we’d come, our route deviated from its original trajectory to follow the boardwalk and waterfront along Johnstons Bay. Another glimpse of the Sydney Tower Eye, a few more surface streets, and the course opened up into Darling Harbour—but not before we hopped a couple of curbs and crossed a brief stretch of crushed gravel. That’s gotta go before next year, I thought, again donning my World Marathon Majors assessor’s hat.
Darling Harbour is one of the city’s most beautiful neighborhoods and one that very much resembles its animated counterpart in Finding Nemo, seagulls and all.
Curving along the wharf past the excellent Wild Life Sydney Zoo and Sea Life Sydney Aquarium, I noticed Spider-Man now running immediately ahead of me. The warmly costumed Web-Slinger looked to be struggling as the morning heated up. Passing him on the right but not wanting to bug him in mile 8 of a marathon, I pulled out my phone and snapped a selfie on the fly. Because as a Marvel Comics fanboy who grew up wanting to be Spider-Man for the first ten (twenty?) years of my life, I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. And besides, wouldn’t Peter Parker himself, in his part-time role as a photographer for The Daily Bugle, have done the same in my shoes?
Leaving Darling Harbour, we were treated to an Aussie-fied version of “Sweet Caroline.” Then hugging the shoreline we cruised through Barangaroo, circling beneath the Harbour Bridge—how cool to behold the bridge from above AND below—on our way to where Katie waited near the 15km point in The Rocks at Circular Quay, the closest point to our hotel. The noise took me by surprise as throngs of raucous spectators lined this narrow stretch, and I located Katie in the crowd just in time to share a smile and a high-five before we continued into the heart of the city.
Skirting Hyde Park we passed Saint Mary’s Cathedral, its twin gothic spires extending heavenward through a cloudless sky. Leaving the central business district, forgettable corporate signage was replaced by eye-catching rainbow flags as we turned onto Oxford Street and entered the city’s LGBTQIA+ district.
Here I ran with the 4-hour pacers as we approached Centennial Park, being careful to keep my pace in check and not chase them as we entered the park. With suboptimal performances in London and Minnesota still fresh in my mind, the last thing I wanted on a warm day was to implode and have to walk any significant mileage. Clearly I was in a better place than I’d been at either of those races, so I wanted to keep things smooth and enjoy the day. And I knew my best bet for success was to stay humble and hydrated.
Although Sydney’s 1,000+ ft of elevation gain marks it as the hilliest of the World Marathon Majors, I would call the course we ran more “rolling” than “hilly.” None of the hills were particularly long or steep, and most rewarded us with a corresponding downhill on the other side. Overall I prefer courses with—let’s call it character—and my legs seemed to respond well to Sydney’s ups and downs.
It helped that I was running in my bouncy new ASICS Metaspeed Sky “super shoes,” which I’d bought on a whim two weeks earlier and which to this point felt great. They spared my legs some of the usual wear-and-tear while helping me maintain my cadence by smoothly rolling each foot forward into the next step. The blue-and-orange RaceRaves color scheme didn’t hurt, either. I’d notice several other runners wearing them throughout the day, and though my own performance in Sydney would fall short of “super,” the shoes certainly wouldn’t be to blame.
Welcome to the Twilight Zone
Approaching the 20km mark near Allianz Stadium (built for the 2000 Summer Olympics, it’s one of Sydney’s largest stadiums), we got to watch the elites blow by us in the opposite direction as they passed their own 36km mark.
For the next 10 miles, our aspiring World Marathon Major transformed suddenly into a local parkrun. Through Moore Park and Centennial Park we followed park roads out and back, out and back, out and back, circled Centennial Park counterclockwise, then reversed direction and retraced our steps clockwise. All the while I hoped the next stretch would be the one to lead us out of this maze. Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage. On the plus side, it was an attractive cage with plenty of tree cover and the occasional pond. We must have covered every square inch of those two parks in a clear bid to accrue the necessary 26.2 miles/42.2km.
After the race, I’d hear several runners point to this inescapable “Blair Witch” portion as their least favorite of the day. For my part, I was relaxed and determined to run as best I could in the heat while enjoying the opportunity to be here in Australia running a marathon 7,500 miles from home. The seemingly endless park miles were made more palatable by the extensive shade, the energy from the spectators, and the (too) many chances to see our fellow runners passing in the opposite direction. And while a couple of out-and-backs remain in 2025, I’m pleased to report that this year’s marathon course includes only a single loop of Centennial Park.
On the other hand, with temperatures rising I definitely did not enjoy seeing runners being tended to by medical personnel or sprawled out on the grass alongside the course. At one point we passed a police car with lights blazing that looked to be responding to a medical emergency. I took a deep breath, calming my nerves and sending positive vibes as I passed. Unfortunately, one of my enduring memories of the Sydney Marathon would be the number of sidelined runners I’d pass in the final 10–15 km. At the same time, I can’t feign surprise—if running 26.2 miles in the heat were easy, everyone would do it.
As if I needed further encouragement, the on-course carnage reminded me to stay hydrated. We passed a heat warning gauge showing green (safe), yellow, orange, and red (dangerous) quadrants, its arrow pointing toward orange. Could be worse, I thought wryly.
A fellow runner—from Los Angeles, coincidentally—would later tell me that, because the race had no food at the aid stations, he’d stopped at a kiosk in the park to buy ice cream. Not a bad idea on this day to be sure, though why an experienced marathoner (which he was) wouldn’t carry their own nutrition was baffling. There are more than enough mistakes to be made on race day without making a rookie one.
And speaking of nutrition—despite feeling neither hungry nor depleted, I finally decided to gulp down a Maurten gel as the 30km aid station came into view. I was pleasantly surprised when my stomach, despite the double whammy of sweet and heat, didn’t protest as it so often does with gels. If I felt myself fading I’d have another at mile 22, though I wasn’t sure I’d need it—I’d done a nice job of fortifying my carbohydrate stores leading up to race day.
With the surrounding roads closed and a dearth of public transit options, Katie had been unable to access the park for this extended stretch, which made neither of us happy but c’est la vie.
It occurred to me that, aside from the “Sweet Caroline” singalong near Darling Harbour, on-course entertainment had been sporadic. Not that I wasn’t entertained by the city itself, but I’d struggle to recall more than a few of the 28 (an oddly specific number) on-course entertainment zones promoted by the organizers. Or maybe the heat ate my brain?
I didn’t commit many of the spectator signs to memory—again I blame the heat—but two that did stand out (for better or worse) read “Beer + Boobies at the Finish Line!” (huh?) and “RUN LIKE FUCK” 🤷🏻♂️
Sometime after mile 20, I heard someone blast a whistle behind me and brusquely order me to move to the side as a handcycle athlete struggled past. This “cycle” repeated itself a couple more times as I’d pass her on the climbs, and she’d return the favor on the descents. Why were the handcycle athletes sharing the course with the runners? Typically the handcycle athletes start several minutes before the runners to avoid such logistical snarls. I could only assume she’d hit a rough patch of her own like so many of the runners I’d seen sprawled out on the grass. Mother Nature, she’s an equal opportunity offender.
Just as we reached the 35km mark and I was starting to think we’d entered the twilight zone of no return, the park spat us out and we escaped exited the way we’d come. I pulled over, pausing for 15 seconds to do some quick knee raises and loosen my quads while kindly refusing a spectator’s generous offer of ibuprofen. Then I pushed onward, determined not to walk outside the aid stations. Mind over muscles, I thought. This last 7km would definitely be a test of my physical and mental fitness.
The Heat Is On
Remember that chaos I mentioned earlier? As I pulled into the aid station at the 37.5km mark, runners were pulling cups from the bulk package themselves and holding them out to be filled by frenetic volunteers. My cup was partially filled by a frazzled fellow pouring as quickly as possible from a plastic bottle. Another volunteer, whether doing as instructed or simply taking the initiative, chose to spray down groups of runners with the hose instead. That aid station logjam cost me upwards of 30 seconds; luckily I was in no real hurry and empathized with the volunteers, who were doing everything in their power to make the best of a bad—and potentially dangerous—situation.
Not only that, but aid station tables were inconsistently labeled as to whether they held water or sports drink, meaning I had to ask several times throughout the day to ensure I got it right. The chaos evident at several (though certainly not all) of the aid stations—particularly on a hot day when many folks were already struggling—was to my mind the biggest black eye for a race that experienced some very public growing pains in real time. That said, every last volunteer was freaking amazing and deserving of their own medal.
Rising heat notwithstanding, a cool breeze coupled with low humidity and plentiful shade—I can’t recall any extended stretches of direct sunlight—made Sydney’s 26.2 miles decidedly more manageable. Besides, this wasn’t much different than some of my summer training runs in humid Los Angeles. At the same time, I could foresee that many of the slower runners would suffer as the mercury continued to climb and the aid stations struggled to meet demand.
Leaving the 37.5km aid station, I settled in for the last 5km and focused on pushing forward. My efforts paid off as I passed a number of walkers and shufflers in the throes of a zombie-like march to the finish. Through the lush Royal Botanic Garden we ran, circling past Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair at the water’s edge. I recognized this route from my shakeout run two days earlier, the hand-carved sandstone “chair” affording a sublime view of the Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. Likewise I recognized the turn that led along the edge of Hyde Park and onto Macquarie St, the Sydney Tower Eye now rising above the skyline on the far side of Hyde Park.
Knowing the end was near, I kept pushing as the road started its gradual downward trajectory, the remaining spectators (Katie among them) creating a wall of sound as the Sydney Opera House came into view. At last we reached the stretch I’d been anticipating for months, and I summoned one last giddyup as the road banked downhill toward home. With 200 yards to go I found myself sprinting (rather than hanging on for dear life) toward a postcard-perfect finish line, the Harbour Bridge standing tall across the water on a stunning canvas of deep blue.
This was the home stretch you wish you could bring to every race, and at that moment it was worth every step of the preceding 26.1 miles. Along with the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, it was the most beautiful finish line I’d ever crossed.
And so I did, stopping the clock at the steps of the Sydney Opera House in an official time of 4:08:14. Damn, what a feeling. Clearing the finish line, I paused to gather my wits and bask in the love of the crowd, so proud to be part of this historic event warts and all (the race’s, not mine). Standing there soaking up the spectacle of my sixth continent, I had no doubt Sydney would soon be the next World Marathon Major.
Slowly I strolled through the finish chute, gratefully accepting my attractive blue finisher medal (depicting—what else?—the Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House) before following the caravan of exhausted and euphoric runners out into the Royal Botanic Garden. Each of us was handed a single bottle of warm water, limited to one per runner. We also passed a table serving warm cups of sports drink. Wow, the organizers really hadn’t prepared well for this heat. And as temperatures climbed past 80°F/27°C, the idea of rationing bottled water seemed unwise to say the least.
Happily collapsing in the shade of a tree I lay waiting for Katie to find me, my outgoing texts reaching their target slowly and sporadically in the overcrowded post-race area. Finally we reunited, and it felt so good. I threw my arms around her in a sweaty victory embrace before peeling myself off the ground and walking with her to collect my finisher shirt. (For her part, she was plenty glow-y after working her way from the finish line through the masses to find me.) Along the way we passed a table holding boxes of warm bananas and a truck offering green cans of non-alcoholic Nort Ale. Whether that, too, was at room temperature, I didn’t stop to find out.
Wandering further into the grassy post-race area, we encountered several food trucks and I settled for an açaí bowl, the only option my stomach could manage. A live band filled the air with music, while the ASICS recovery zone offered exclusive access to OneASICS members. Like afterthoughts, a few smaller sponsor tents sat back away from the flow of foot traffic. And there, sitting under the hot sun, was another table holding small cups of warm water. Was Sydney not privy to the awesome twin technologies of ice and refrigeration?
Making one last stop alongside the Opera House/finish line, we took advantage of the spectacular backdrop and the sun’s ideal positioning to snap a finisher selfie with the Harbour Bridge. Normally we’d opt for the finish line in the background, but then normally we don’t have the Sydney Harbour Bridge as an alternative.
Then we exited across Macquarie St, pausing to cheer on back-of-the-packers as they trickled in, their faces radiating with the effort of the day and what seemed to me more than the usual number of smiles.
News reports in the days after the race, however, would tell a different story. “Dangerous scenes of chaos from start to finish,” proclaimed one outlet. Start to finish? That smacked of sensationalism. Granted, 40 runners were treated in the medical tents and 26 were hospitalized, something you never want to see. One hospitalization is too many. And yes, some aid stations were overwhelmed. At the same time, this is not a leisurely walk through the Royal Botanic Garden—this is a marathon. 26.2 miles in unseasonably hot weather. And if you’re going to line up on the start line, you have to know your body’s capabilities and how hard you can push.
As singer/songwriter/non-runner Kenny Rogers taught us in “The Gambler,” You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, and know when to run. The truth is that some folks don’t know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. And this is particularly true of marathoners who thrive on discomfort—at the notoriously warm 2012 edition of the Boston Marathon (which started at 10am EDT), more than 2,100 runners were treated in the medical tents with 152 being hospitalized.
I’m not exempting the organizers from responsibility, but I do think responsible marathoning is a two-way street. And it’s easy to say “They should have moved the start time up earlier” when you’re not the one in charge of logistics. For me, the biggest oversight of the day was the lack of ice and/or cold sponges at aid stations, which would have limited the number of casualties.
Of course the rest, as they say, is history. The race passed its first and second stages of candidacy in 2023 and 2024, respectively, and in Nov 2024 the TCS Sydney Marathon was announced as the 7th member of the Abbott World Marathon Majors. Unfortunately, none of us who helped Sydney achieve its lofty aspirations were rewarded with a star for running the race during its candidacy years, a decision that flew in the face of precedent since all six member races had grandfathered in past runners when they themselves were introduced as World Marathon Majors.
That questionable call, together with continued expansion (Cape Town and Shanghai are currently being assessed as candidates) and a 90% reduction in overall prize money from $500,000 to $50,000, make it clear that the series is focused on maximizing its golden goose, the Six- (and eventually Nine-) Star Medal for amateur runners. Honestly, I can’t say I blame them—theirs is a captive audience and when it comes to commitment, the eyes-on-the-prize obsession of Six-Star hopefuls rivals the fiery fandom of Swifties.
Sunday evening we rejoined our friends at Marathon Tours & Travel for their post-race party at The Squire’s Landing in The Rocks, a short walk from our hotel. Jeff Adams, MT&T president and fellow Antarctica 2013 alum, introduced six new inductees into the company’s Seven Continents Club Finishers Hall of Fame. And I promised him I’d be coming for that award soon. Ten years and one global pandemic after crossing the finish line of my second continent in Antarctica, I’d completed continent #6 with only South America to go. Unless they dredge up Atlantis between now and then…
Koala-ty Recovery Time
Still basking in the warm afterglow of an amazing race day, we took Monday to explore Sydney on foot with a focus on Darling Harbour. There, we visited the Wild Life Sydney Zoo where we chatted with several of the animal keepers at length (as mentioned above, September is the non-peak tourism season in Sydney). We learned about the zoo’s Tasmanian devils (the largest carnivorous marsupial in the world), and one keeper generously borrowed my camera to record a nostril-cam video of the resident red kangaroo enjoying a snack of butternut squash.
Then it was time to take our talents north to Queensland and the Great Barrier Reef. On Tuesday we flew to Cairns (pronounced kænz with a silent “r”) where we continued on to Port Douglas, a tiny coastal town located close to both the reef and our Wednesday destination, Daintree Rainforest. Located within Daintree National Park, the rainforest was well worth the day spent with fellow tourists learning about its wonders.
At last we arrived at one of the hands-down highlights in a trip filled with them. On Thursday we boarded a ferry for the 45-minute ride to Green Island, a coral cay and eco resort in the Great Barrier Reef encircled by white-sand beaches and azure waters. Green Island would be our headquarters for the next two days as we explored the Outer Barrier Reef, swimming with sea turtles and the reef’s many other fascinating occupants in the crystal-clear ocean. Even Katie, who’s not the most enthusiastic of swimmers, took to the water like a fish, exploring the reef’s nooks and crannies in her search for locals. It was an intoxicating experience I can’t recommend enough, and one that reaffirmed mankind’s urgent need to protect the world’s oceans.
Snorkeling off Green Island we swam with sea turtles, colorful sea stars, giant clams, and even a shy octopus. On my approach, the octopus quickly reversed direction and slithered back into the crevice from which he’d emerged, a cloud of dirt spitting from the hole in his wake. His coloration blended smartly with the coral, and I found him again to show Katie only by looking for the suckers and the inquisitive eye staring back at us. The big fella had deftly squeezed himself into a very small hole, and my heart filled with awe for this exquisitely adapted creature.
Unfortunately all good things, even bucket-list visits to the Great Barrier Reef, must end. On Saturday we boarded the ferry back to Port Douglas as the first leg in our return trip to Sydney via Cairns. And on Sunday we continued to explore Sydney where we’d left off, starting with the gorgeous Coogie to Bondi Beach Coastal Walk (6 km) before watching the sunset from high atop the city at the breathtaking Harbour Bridge Pylon Lookout. Having admired the bridge from almost every conceivable angle during our stay, this was the one remaining vantage point available to us that didn’t involve tethering ourselves to other humans while scaling the arch itself. I’d say we chose wisely.
Sydney really is one of the world’s most beautiful and welcoming cities. Everyone was nice without fail, and as an American it occurred to me there’s a lot to be said for paying your employees a real living wage.
Our last full day in Australia we reserved for a day trip to the beautiful Blue Mountains an hour’s drive (on a tour bus) outside the city. There, among other things, we rode the steepest passenger railway in the world down a 52° incline from the upper sandstone cliffs to the rainforest valley floor and back. Later, on the drive back to Sydney, we stopped at our third and final animal habitat of the trip, the Featherdale Wildlife Park. In between up-close-and-personal encounters with tiny kangaroos and a handsome, very chill koala named Byron, we got to know more of the continent’s native wildlife highlighted by a southern cassowary. The ornery, ostrich-sized fellow with bright blue neck and two red wattles was one of the coolest birds I’ve seen on any continent, and I wish we’d had more time to just observe and admire him. But I’d happily take what I could get.
Our final day in Australia would be 41 hours long, and we’d be awake for 35 of them. Fortunately, being able to fly business class would pay huge dividends for my physical and mental well-being. Should you decide to run Sydney, I’d 100% recommend business class or first class—as savvy travelers (say that three times fast), we’d accumulated enough points to submit for an upgrade from economy to business class, although the airline wouldn’t confirm our upgrade until 72 hours prior to departure based on availability. Our return flight to the U.S. departed Sydney Airport at 9:20am on Tuesday and landed in Los Angeles at 6:14am on—Tuesday, three hours before we’d supposedly left.
Which, given the magic of the past two weeks, seemed just about right.
BOTTOM LINE: This August, when Sydney hosts the largest marathon in the city’s history, it will do so as the newest and most beautiful member of the Abbott World Marathon Majors. Not to throw shade on the other six Majors (Tokyo, Boston, London, Berlin, Chicago, and NYC)—each has its own unique charm, and I’m fortunate to have run them all. But Sydney boasts arguably the most beautiful cityscape in the world, and its marathon smartly plays to that strength. With an opening mile across Harbour Bridge overlooking the sparkling Sydney Harbour, a segment through Darling Harbour (which owes its global celebrity to the Disney movie Finding Nemo), and arguably the best finish line in the world at the steps of the Sydney Opera House, Sydney is a marathon you’ll love yourself for running and a city you’ll love yourself for visiting.
I ran the race in 2023 in its second year as a candidate race for the World Marathon Majors. Meaning, the organizers were dealing with all the growing pains you’d expect from a race that was trying to grow its finisher numbers from fewer than 3,500 in 2022 to 20,000+ just two years later (with 35,000+ expected in 2025). With that in mind, and on an unusually hot day, the race understandably had the feel of a work in progress, as several aid stations struggled to meet the demand caused by the perfect storm of higher numbers and hotter weather. Accordingly, I adjusted my expectations and crossed the finish line upright and with a smile on my face, heat and all. The organizers did enough things right, and the course itself was so visually stunning, that I feel it’s appropriate to grade the Sydney Marathon on a curve based on its future potential rather than its frenetic growth phase. And on that score, Sydney will soon be tops in its class. This despite the fact it will also be the hilliest of the Majors, with its current course measuring 1,000+ ft of elevation gain.
During our time in Australia we visited (among other attractions) three zoos/wildlife parks and three white-sand beaches, plus one of the seven natural wonders of the world in the Great Barrier Reef. So I can vouch that Sydney is the ultimate destination race. If you haven’t already, check out the rest of my race report for the nitty-gritty with answers to all the what, when, where, why and how questions. Then do yourself a favor, mate, and make plans to run the Sydney Marathon. Much like the other Majors, general entry is now via a lottery, but don’t let that dissuade you—there are other ways to gain entry, as any World Marathon Majors aficionado can attest.
PRODUCTION: As mentioned above, here I prefer to channel my inner Wayne Gretzky and skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been (a hockey analogy for Australia, yikes). Yes, the 2023 Sydney Marathon experienced its share of growing pains as the organizers introduced a new course, reimagined the pre-race expo, and ironed out kinks on the fly in the midst of unprecedented growth and high heat. But it’s clear they care a lot, so all the trial and error presumably amounted to invaluable lessons learned for a race day that will soon be among the most popular in the world. And honestly, I was well aware when I registered that growth was the #1 goal for Sydney in 2023. My only regret is that the powers-that-be didn’t award us a star (which would have been my 7th) for being among the faithful who helped to elevate a fledgling candidate race to World Marathon Major status.
SWAG: As a medal maniac coming from a country that tends to (over)emphasize its race swag, I like to temper my expectations for international races. Sydney, however, rose to the occasion with a more attractive finisher medal than any of the other three international Majors, a sky blue-and-silver-plated souvenir that smartly depicts—as it should every year, like the Boston unicorn—the Sydney Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge. The medal also includes the Abbott World Marathon Majors logo below the label “CANDIDATE RACE” as a reminder that no, you didn’t earn a star for your efforts this time (jk Sydney!). Fortunately, ASICS signed on as the presenting sponsor in the months before the marathon so the short-sleeve, navy blue finisher shirt—which, as the name implies, was available at the finish line—likewise turned out to be a pleasant surprise, even if ASICS ran out of time to produce much else in the way of marathon merch before race day.
RaceRaves rating:
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" data-image-title="Screenshot" data-orig-file="https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/sydney-raceraves-review_bch.jpg" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"Screenshot","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"Screenshot","orientation":"1"}" width="750" data-medium-file="https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/sydney-raceraves-review_bch.jpg?w=300" loading="lazy" data-permalink="https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2025/03/03/sydney-marathon-race-report/screenshot-6/" alt="" height="299" class="wp-image-9121" data-large-file="https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/sydney-raceraves-review_bch.jpg?w=614" />FINAL STATS:
Sept 17, 2023 (start time 7:10 am)
26.47 miles in Sydney, NSW, Australia (continent 6 of 7)
Finish time & pace: 4:08:14 (first time running the Sydney Marathon), 9:28/mile
Finish place: 4,384 overall, 231/687 in M(50-54) age group
Number of finishers: 13,297 (9,574 men, 3,680 women)
Race weather: warm & clear (63°F) at the start, hot & clear (82°F) at the finish
Elevation change (Garmin Connect): 2,012 ft gain, 2,161 ft loss
Elevation min, max: –78 ft, 245 ft
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