Over the last four decades, I’ve run 626 marathons. That’s 16,413 miles if you’re counting, or about 26,414 kilometres for the metric-minded. This Sunday, just two weeks after celebrating my 80th birthday, I’ll be lacing up my running shoes once again to take on my 40th London Marathon.

People often ask how I do it. Truthfully, I don’t really know – I just do.

I’ve run in cities as far-flung as Tokyo and Honolulu, through the lush landscapes of New Zealand and on cobbled streets in old European towns. Berlin, though, holds a special place in my heart – after London, it’s the race I’ve done the most, 35 times to be exact. It’s also where I ran my 600th marathon, shortly after The Queen passed, in a twist of fate that saw my planned race in Richmond Park cancelled.

What to read next

Running has become my rhythm. I try to do a marathon a month – or at least a couple of half marathons. Being part of a race is far nicer than training alone. There’s an energy in the air, a sense of occasion and it keeps you sharp – always ready.

Back home, I run with Plumstead Runners. We’re twinned with a club in Berlin, and over the years, many of them have become dear friends. Some of us don’t run together any more – one lovely friend and I now walk every Saturday instead. The club even threw me a surprise birthday party before I went away with my husband to celebrate turning 80. There was bunting, cake, laughter – there’s always lots of laughter. Of course, I’m the oldest member, but age doesn’t matter there; it’s a warm, welcoming place. They’ve even started a walking group for those who can’t run any more, which I often go to in order to spend time with my friends.

I’ve never listened to music when I run, not once. I prefer to take in the world around me – the chatter of the crowd, the encouragement from strangers, the slap of trainers on pavement. It makes me feel part of the world, like walking down a busy high street. There’s clarity in it and there’s no doubt that running was what got me through some tough times. People say running gives you time to think, to work things out, but I run so often I don’t think I have any problems left to solve!

‘Marathons are long, and you go through highs and lows at different times’

And I always run alone. Not because I’m antisocial, but because marathons are long, and you go through highs and lows at different times. I’ve learned to manage those moments on my own.

My journey began in 1982, the year I first saw the London Marathon. It passed right by the top of our street and I remember standing there thinking, ‘I want to be part of this.’ So I stayed up all night just to be the first in line at the Post Office the moment entries opened for the next year. Back then, everything was done by post. Luckily, I got in. My friend and I ran our first marathon together; it took us just over five hours, and I had awful blisters. The shoes weren’t what they are now. But something about it lit a spark in me, and I knew I had to do it again.

And again. And again.

People are always baffled by how I’ve managed to get a place for 40 years. Well, for a long time, it was simply by being the first one at the Post Office. Then later, I qualified under the Good For Age category the London Marathon introduced – I’ve met the standard every year since. At 80, I suppose that’s not as hard to believe any more.

‘I'm lady who has run the most London Marathons’

Although I still like to qualify every time, four years ago the marathon organisers gave me a Spirit of the London Marathon Award, which means I get automatic entry. That was an emotional moment, because they told me I was the lady who has run the most London Marathons. I don’t run for accolades, but that meant a lot to me.

I’m also very proud to be part of the 100 Marathon Club now – well past the threshold at this point. We have so many medals, there’s nearly a dedicated room in the house, but each one tells a story, marks a place, a moment.

The truth is, there’s nothing particularly special in my routine.

I’m a creature of habit. Left shoe first, always. Breakfast is high-fibre cereal with lots of fruit, and toast. The night before? Pasta or pizza – nothing too fussy. When I’m away, it’s harder to keep the routine, but I do my best. My husband and I are both retired now, so when I travel abroad for races, we turn it into a holiday. Usually somewhere sunny and warm on the bones.

After races, I usually grab a meal with friends – something with chips, always. Your body craves salt after all those miles. And I treat myself to a soda and lime. You have to have some bubbles – just a little sparkle, after all that water. No alcohol, though – not straight after, as my body is never ready for it.

Sometimes, I wonder if the secret is that I’ve always been small: five foot nothing, not much to carry around. But more than that, I think it’s because I never stopped. I just kept showing up, putting one foot in front of the other. I’ve added yoga into the mix now; that helps, too.

‘It reminds me how lucky I am that I can still do this’

I grew up three miles from where I live now, by the Thames. I still run along the river. And now that it’s spring, our running club heads into the woods. There’s something about running under trees, the way the light filters through leaves – it reminds me how lucky I am that I can still do this.

So, this Sunday, when I toe the line for my 40th London Marathon, I’ll do so with the same determination I had in 1983. Left shoe first. Cereal and fruit. Deep breath. Off I go.

I don’t know how I do it.

I just do.

Lead picture caption clockwise from top right: Berlin, for her 600th marathon in 2022; London in 1984; Chicago, 2022; Seaton, 2025.