Running Through History: My Amsterdam Marathon 2025 Experience
Two months after crossing the finish line at Ironman Copenhagen, I told myself I’d earned a lazy break. And I took it — a little too seriously. For weeks, my running shoes sat untouched by the door, silently judging me. I knew Amsterdam Marathon was coming, but somehow the thought of another long training run just didn’t spark that same fire.
Still, something about Amsterdam kept calling. Maybe it was the magic of a city built on water, or maybe it was the significance of this particular year — the 50th anniversary of the TCS Amsterdam Marathon and 750 years since the city’s founding. This wasn’t just another race; it was history in motion. I decided to show up, no pressure, no goal time — just to run, to feel, to celebrate.
The Calm After the Ironman
After Ironman Copenhagen, I thought I understood endurance. But the truth is, finishing an Ironman doesn’t make you immune to burnout — if anything, it magnifies it. The months of structured training, early mornings, and endless discipline had left me mentally drained.
When September rolled around, my “training plan” for Amsterdam looked more like a recovery schedule. I wasn’t chasing a personal best this time. I wanted to rediscover why I run — the joy, the freedom, the rhythm of footsteps that clears the mind.
Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t the race itself. It’s finding the courage to start again when motivation has quietly slipped away.
Why Amsterdam?
There’s something special about Amsterdam. Maybe it’s the contrast — the calm of the canals and the chaos of the crowds, the modern energy flowing through centuries-old streets. I’d heard runners describe it as one of the most scenic marathons in Europe, and when I learned it would be celebrating both its 50th edition and the city’s 750-year milestone, it felt like the perfect time to join the celebration.
The days leading up to the marathon were buzzing with excitement. The whole city seemed to hum with anticipation — banners hanging from bridges, runners jogging along canals, and café chatter filled with talk of pacing, gels, and weather forecasts.
This wasn’t just another race weekend. It felt like a festival of endurance, unity, and pure joy.
Race Day Energy
Race morning. The air was crisp, the sky a perfect shade of October blue. I made my way toward the Olympic Stadium, following a sea of runners. The sound of the crowd grew louder with every step — an orchestra of excitement, chatter, and pounding hearts.
Standing at the start line, I felt the familiar mix of adrenaline and peace. No watch anxiety, no time goal. Just the simple intention: enjoy every kilometer.
And then — we were off.
The streets of Amsterdam opened before us, lined with cheering locals, children waving flags, and bands playing everything from Dutch folk tunes to rock anthems. The crowd support was phenomenal. Every corner brought new energy — laughter, music, high-fives.
For a moment, it didn’t feel like running a marathon. It felt like belonging — to a city, to a community, to something bigger than myself.
Running Through History
Few marathon courses are as beautiful and symbolic as Amsterdam’s. We ran through Vondelpark, past the Rijksmuseum, under the historic archway where echoes of footsteps blend with the notes of street musicians.
Then came the long stretch along the Amstel River, where the city gives way to open skies, windmills, and countryside. Boats cruised beside us, waving and blasting music for support. I slowed my pace for a moment, just to take it all in — the rhythm of footsteps, and the knowledge that thousands of us were part of this living, breathing celebration.
This was the joy of running — no splits, no pressure, just presence. I remembered why I fell in love with endurance sports in the first place.
The Tough Miles
Of course, no marathon is complete without its humbling stretch. Around kilometer 38, fatigue set in. My legs felt heavy, and that quiet voice whispered, “You could slow down. You’ve earned it.”
But that’s when the real race begins — not against the clock, but against doubt. I thought back to the Ironman finish line, to every early morning and tough session that had taught me resilience. I reminded myself: You’re not tired, you’re just remembering that it’s supposed to be hard.
Crowds near the final kilometers lifted everyone’s spirits. People clapped, shouted our names, offered water and smiles. Every cheer was a small burst of energy, a reminder that we were almost home.
The Finish Line and Beyond
Running back into the city felt surreal — the canals, the cobblestones, the rhythm of hundreds of runners syncing to one collective heartbeat.
The roar of the crowd grew louder with each step inside the arena. There’s something magical about finishing in a stadium — the history, the noise, the flood of emotion that crashes over you when you realize you’ve done it.
I crossed the line smiling.The medal hung heavy around my neck — a reminder that sometimes, the best races aren’t the fastest, but the ones that reconnect you to your why.
Reflections and Lessons
As I wandered through the finish area, wrapped in a white plastic blanket and surrounded by tired, happy faces, I thought about how easy it is to get lost in numbers — pace, distance, time. But Amsterdam reminded me that running is more than metrics. It’s movement, emotion, community.
For anyone thinking about running their first marathon, my advice is simple:
Don’t chase perfection. Chase the experience.
Don’t fear the distance. Respect it, train smart, but remember that the finish line feeling is worth every tough mile.
Run your own race. Whether you walk, jog, or sprint, you belong out there as much as anyone.
The Amsterdam Marathon, in its 50th year, wasn’t just a race through a beautiful city — it was a celebration of endurance, resilience, and joy.
And as the sun set over the canals, with tired legs and a full heart, I realized something: every marathon changes you a little. Not because of the kilometers you run, but because of the moments you collect along the way.
