I’ve run five London Marathons, and each one taught me something different about training, balance, and listening to my body.

My first marathon was run when my kids were little. Life was busy, time was tight, and I could only manage about an hour at the gym to train. I got round, but it quickly became clear that long runs are non-negotiable when it comes to marathon prep. You simply can’t fake 26.2 miles.

For my second marathon, I followed a proper training plan — and that helped a lot. Structure mattered. By marathon number three, training became more social. I ran long runs with friends, and those miles were the most enjoyable by far. We’d all hit fatigue at different points, and someone always seemed to have enough energy to pull the rest of us through. That shared suffering made the hard work lighter.

By my fourth marathon, my goal had shifted. I was aiming for a Good for Age time — and that’s when spinning became a serious part of my training. I still ran my long runs, but I added spinning sessions into the week. Not as an afterthought, but as a strategy. That balance worked: I hit my Good for Age time and earned a free entry into my fifth London Marathon.

By the time marathon number five came around, I knew it would be my last. This one wasn’t about chasing a time. It was about soaking it all in — walking across Tower Bridge, loving the crowd, and appreciating the atmosphere. My training reflected that mindset: one long run a week, two spinning classes, lots of dog walking, and some tennis. Being on your feet for long periods still counts. Movement is movement.

What all of these marathons taught me is that marathon training is a delicate balancing act. You need high mileage to prepare for 26.2 miles, but every step also places stress on your body. Over time, that pounding can lead to fatigue, burnout, or injury. The challenge is building fitness without breaking down — and that’s where spinning really comes into its own.

Spinning allows you to maintain (and often improve) cardiovascular fitness while giving your joints a much-needed break. Every running stride sends forces several times your body weight through your legs. Multiply that by thousands of steps, week after week, and it’s no wonder runners so often feel beaten up. On the bike, you can push your heart rate high — through intervals or sustained efforts — without the impact. On days when my body felt tired but my lungs were ready to work, spinning kept me progressing without digging a deeper recovery hole.

There’s also a strength element that often gets overlooked. Pedalling against resistance builds powerful quads and glutes — exactly the muscles you rely on late in a marathon when fatigue sets in. It demands core engagement and helps iron out imbalances that can quietly lead to injury. I genuinely felt stronger and more durable once spinning became part of my routine.

Recovery was another unexpected benefit. A light spin the day after a long run helped flush out heavy legs and reduced stiffness far more effectively than complete rest ever did. Instead of feeling sluggish for days, I bounced back quicker and was ready for my next key session.

And then there’s the mental side. Marathon training can be monotonous. Long runs, pace work, constant focus on splits — it wears you down. Spinning gave me variety. Music, group energy, and a change of scenery kept training enjoyable and sustainable. That mental refresh matters more than people realise. Consistency over months is what gets you to the start line healthy.

Spinning never replaced my long runs — and it shouldn’t. But used intentionally, it supported them. It allowed me to train smarter, stay healthier, and ultimately enjoy the process more. Looking back across five marathons, it’s clear that spinning wasn’t just cross-training for me. It was a performance tool — and one I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend to any runner trying to balance ambition with longevity.