Official Race Photos: A 10-Act Tragedy

Act 1: You believe. We don't – Mile 0

The story gets off to a strong start. Thankfully, you might say, since you haven't even set off yet. The photo is magnificent. A mix of emotions, a hint of a smile, determination just beneath the surface. Your arms are raised and you already look the part. Yes, we're talking about the top step of the podium. Sitting in front of your computer, you are already reaching for your bank card. If the next nine are this good, you'll bite the bullet and buy the album to update all your profile pictures. We hadn't bet a penny on it. Spoiler alert: we were right.

Act 2: Suspicious optimism – Mile 5

The first miles of the marathon are behind you. Smile on your face, light stride, everything seems to be going smoothly. We said seems. The smile is still there, but it already looks a little forced. You even start to wonder whether it's fake. Five miles in and things are already getting tough. Can't wait to see what comes next.

Act 3: Everything is under control (it isn't) – Mile 15

The one-hour mark is well behind you, and you realise this could take longer than expected. This time, your cheeks are flushed and the sweat is clearly visible. The result is surprisingly convincing. You look as though everything is under control and nothing could possibly happen to you. Zoom in, though, and it becomes clear that the only question running through your mind is: “Why did I pay to do this?” Actually, you can see it without zooming in.

Act 4: Already in a fight – Mile 20

Not even halfway and your face is already clenched. Clearly, this is going to take much longer than expected. At mile 20, you have entered serious turbulence. The lightness in your stride was left back at mile 5. You can feel the internal battle beginning. Naturally, you want to look dignified and strong, but Photoshop can't do anything about the strain now showing on your face. Survival mode is just around the corner. Awkward, with more than half the race still to go.

Act 5: The photo nobody will ever see – Mile 30

You can no longer tell whether this is the marathon wall or a battlefield. And yet, your mate warned you the night before: “The marathon wall is not a myth.” Apparently, you thought you were stronger than that. Wrong. You ran straight into it, and this photo perfectly sums up the marathon experience. Of course, you had spotted the photographer, who had wisely taken up position at mile 30 early that morning (yes, the first finishers had already arrived three and a half hours ago). No pretending this time. Your body is giving up, and so is your mind.

Act 6: Betrayed by your own eyes – Mile 35

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Fair enough, it started with good intentions. Naturally, you hadn't planned on a photographer being stationed here. Caught by surprise, you summon your last reserves in an attempt to look vaguely presentable. The photo tells the story. You force what you believe is a smile. It isn't. Like all the previous ones, this photo is destined for the bin.

Act 7: Autopilot mode – Mile 38

“The important thing is to finish.” Quite right. Once the clock shows more than five hours, finishing really is what matters. At this point, you're relying on the finish-line photo at best. At worst, there's the selfie taken on your latest-generation smartphone, its lens fogged up, finisher's medal around your neck. Mile 38: your complexion is approaching the colour of a bathroom sink, and the photographer can't do a thing about it. Your mouth is parched because apparently hydrating would be cheating. Generally speaking, there isn't much left to flatter you, apart from a thumbs-up that you struggle to produce as you pass the camera.

Act 8: The photo where you think you're alone – Mile 42

This is your moment. After more than five hours of effort, you finally see it. Yes, the finish arch, obviously, but we were mainly talking about the photographer sitting on his chair: your hero of the day. The person who is going to get you at least one usable photo. You get ready, lengthen your stride, straighten up, relax your face and project an air of ease. In the moment, you think you've nailed it. Until you discover that you absolutely haven't. Your eyes are vacant and unfocused, as if your soul has left your body. You move on instinct, with no coordination whatsoever between your arms and legs. Clearly, you are no longer in control of anything. The photo belongs in a horror film.

Act 9: A second finish-line photo, a second chance – Mile 42

When you see that another finish-line photo of you is available, it feels like the icing on the cake. Bib number 6537 happened to pass right in front of you at that exact moment. Don't panic. It wouldn't have been any better anyway.

Act 10: The final revelation

You logged on to the official race-photo website full of hope. Far too much hope, as it turns out. To sum up, only the first photo is even remotely usable. The problem is that you can still see the start arch. Not exactly something to show off on social media. Then you see the package price: €30. You can't help muttering: “Whatever. I kept the memories in my head.” Tonight, we'll see your selfie with your finisher's medal circulating through our feeds.

No information about your time, how you looked at the finish or where you placed. Just a simple “Marathon Finisher ✅”.