Valencia Marathon 2025 Race Review - Sunshine on a Winters Day

The famous Valencia Marathon: flat, fast, and that beautiful blue carpet. Wow. What no one was anticipating was the twenty-seven-degree heat and the blistering sun. This was a marathon of two halves. My Valencia Marathon race review starts here.

Valencia had always been on my list. That brilliant blue, water-cutting finish line at the City of Arts & Sciences (Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias) is one of the most unique finishes in the world, and the course is known for being seriously fast.

The blue carpet

City of Arts and Sciences

Valencia marathon

This was the year to finally do it. I’d filled my 50th year with events — a hot London Marathon in April, a few summer triathlons, half marathons, and a 50km ultra in September — which rolled me straight into peak training for Valencia.

Training had gone well. The body held up to the long runs, tempos, speed work, and a consistent dose of strength training. The one blip was a niggly glute that hindered my taper and forced me to cut running down considerably. But the training was in the bank, so it was all good — all I really lost was the daily sanity that running gives me.

I flew out on Saturday morning from Gatwick, grabbed my race number from the expo on the way to the apartment — which, through meticulous planning, happened to be only 800m from the start. At the time I didn’t realise what a massive win that was, especially for this marathon where you head straight to your assigned start box. A 10-minute warm-up jog to the pen? Absolute luxury. Saved me all that nervous pre-race faffing.

On Saturday afternoon I walked down to the magnificent Arts & Sciences complex to see the finish line. It’s built in the old riverbed of the Turia, which Valencia diverted after a major flood in 1957. The city transformed the old river route into the Turia Gardens — a long, flowing green space that runs right through Valencia.

The whole place is staggering: huge, futuristic buildings, water features, and gardens that stretch for miles. The complex sits exactly where the river used to run, which is why it looks like something gliding through water.

The Valencia Expo

Expo Valencia

Arts & Sciences

The finish line

The forecast said 24 degrees for race day. A hot one for sure — especially late in the race.

(They lied. It was hotter.)

Easy Saturday. Pasta dinner. Early night. Slept surprisingly well and woke up at 6am with a solid eight hours done.

The race starts on Avenida de los Naranjos near the university. My wave was purple, 8:45am. I left the apartment at 8:15 and jogged down into a wall of runner noise and pre-race buzz.

The early miles head through the modern part of the city, past the port, then onto wide, flat roads. I settled nicely into 4:40–4:45 pace — the plan. I run on feel rather than forcing it, and this felt good. The glute behaved. I was happy.

But as I hit the middle stages through the Turia Gardens and the edge of the centre, the legs started to feel heavy. A few alarm bells rang. I knew then it was going to be a mental race. You always hope for one of the good days....but you can’t have them all. That’s marathons — they are fecking hard.

At 25km I was digging in. “Run easy, keep it light, let the legs do the work. Keep the mental stuff out of this.”

Late 20s km ticked by at the same pace — the legs were trained for it — but I knew the hard times were coming. “Get to 35km,” I thought, “then hang the f*ck on.”

Dark thoughts arrived earlier than scheduled.

“This is too early. This is too early. I’m going to have to dig in already.”

Another km ticked by.

“Run within yourself.”

Checked the watch — still holding pace.

Another km.

“Keep it easy. Don’t go too fast. Keep it together.”

Honestly, I was wondering how long legs would tick away for.

The answer: 34km.

Then the legs started cramping. The slow fade — like a battery draining. I stopped for a quick stretch (my go-to), then ran again. Dig in. Hurt. Repeat every couple of kilometres.

The later stages of the route are long, wide, exposed straight roads. Great for pacing on a cool day. Absolutely brutal when it’s hot, humid, hitting temps of 27 degrees and your legs are saying “adios amigo”.

The only respite came when the course dipped into shaded streets — mini revivals where I felt briefly reborn… until the next turn blasted me back into the sun to wilt and fry. Instantly zapped again, pace dropping, just hanging on.

My target was sub-3:30. A really good day might’ve put PB territory (around 3:20-ish) on the cards. I knew at halfway that wasn’t happening — the heaviness in the legs was familiar. “Hello darkness my old friend.” Every marathon has that moment; you just hope it shows up as late as possible.

The last 8km.....not pretty. Pace erratic. Emotions erratic. But the one constant: the stubborn mental strength. I wanted that blue carpet. That medal. Nothing was stopping me. The time didn’t bother me anymore. Just keep going.

There’s something about the final few kilometres — almost there, so the body finds a bit extra, or maybe more like the mind. The legs picked up. The last 2km are phenomenal as the route funnels towards the finish. The crowds close in, noise bouncing off the buildings, a tunnel of sound pushing you home.

At 2km to go I realised if I just kept plodding, I would likely sneak under 3:30.

900m to go — thank f*ck.

500m — slight left and boom, the blue carpet starts. Thank the absolute f*ck.

300m — thought of all those track sessions. Come on. Nearly there.

Saw the finish arch, checked the watch, knew I had it.

Crossed the line, fist pump, done.

3:29:43.

After the finish is always a sight — people everywhere in every emotional state: cramping, crying, laughing, staggering, smiling. Beautiful chaos.

“The Pretender” by Foo Fighters blasted out as I staggered through the finish chute. Perfect. Collected the medal and made the very wobbly 25-minute walk back.

**The hottest Valencia Marathon in the last decade.**

Another great day. Another great event. I’m not getting any younger, but I’m definitely making new experiences.

Vamos Valencia.