Running a Perth marathon 2025 — everything you need to know

If you’re keen to run a Perth marathon in 2025, you’re not alone. The city is just perfect for long slog runs, with so many beautiful suburbs offering wide paths, impeccable views and enough challenge to really make you work for your medal. It makes plenty sense to be a runner in Perth, given the options available. Same can be said for the awesome running events scheduled throughout the year.

We’ll list those soon, as well as tips on how you can prepare. For now, here’s my own experience as a marathon runner in Perth.

How I ended up running a Perth marathon

On a cool Perth Sunday in June, I set out for a 25km run (not a marathon). It’d be my longest ever distance but not beyond me given I’d done half marathons in Perth both weekends prior. But I was building myself up for a solo marathon. No races were scheduled, no fun runs, no organised mara’s. I just wanted to get out and run 42kms. But today… I was sure… was just a 25km run.

I left my house in Mount Lawley and was feeling good—extremely positive (waving and smiling at fellow runners on the overcast day) and light on my feet. I’d only had two pieces of toast and a coffee, so of course I was feeling light. I had two gels in my pouch, and a faint voice in my head telling me that maybe, just maybe, I could run the full marathon today. 

Why? It’d save me more training, let me finally rest my shitty right knee for a few months, and—most importantly—free me from the nagging anxiety of “I need to do a marathon” that had been bouncing around my skull for weeks.

By kilometre ten, I’d decided—I was running the full marathon.

My own Perth marathon

The first 15km were great. I felt excellent, taking one gel by the time I hit Kings Park. Up until then, I’d been following my usual route through the city, but I was now further from home on foot than I’d ever been before. The wide paths lined with jacaranda trees shaded me as I settled into my rhythm, Stephen King’s On Writing playing in my headphones.

I kept pushing, running on autopilot. I had no water, and with every passing kilometre, it became clear that I wouldn’t find any unless I stopped somewhere to buy a bottle—not an option I was entertaining. My pace was good. 

Out of the wondrous inner-city park, I returned to the pavement, making my way past Matilda Bay and into the suburbs of Dalkeith. The world around me blurred into movement: passing cars, people chatting on their phones, cyclists coasting by, all oblivious to the fact that I was in the middle of a spontaneous marathon.

Looking for adventures in Perth? Here are 17 of our favourite adventures in WA’s capital city.

21km: Halfway, thank God

At halfway, I called my partner Laura to tell her my plan. I clapped a couple of times to celebrate reaching 21km—halfway there! She reacted just as I expected when I told her I was out in Dalkeith. That was a long way from home. It was after that phone call—after her big GOOD LUCK (or was it HAVE FUN?)—that I began to break down.

Turning for home, my legs started locking up. I could feel every muscle throbbing, from the sides of my legs to the tiniest joints in my feet. My right foot, especially the arch, felt like someone was punching it with each step. 

Strava’s kilometre updates became my lifeline, the robotic voice announcing my progress every five minutes. Each time, I whispered, c’mon, buddy, before trudging on. But the joy of those moments faded fast. My pace slowed. I accepted that I wouldn’t break my original 3-hour-30-minute goal—not that it mattered. I was running a marathon on a whim, halfway through some random training plan I’d found on a blog.

Kilometre 24. Give me another 8km and we’ll reassess. I didn’t want to stop. I knew I’d finish. The only question was in what condition. I climbed hills that had been much more pleasant going the other way and started hurting. The negativity knocked harder. I was so thirsty. My lips were chapped, and every water bottle in every cyclist’s drink holder mocked me. Each sip I saw them take felt personal. Fuck you, I thought at each gulp.

Kings Park was far from the lovely and wild experience I’d had on my outward leg. Now, it was a place of torture. Had the hills become steeper? The sand softer? Okay, my strategy: run up the hills, walk the flats, run down the hills, reassess. It worked until I noticed how many flats I was finding on my route through my favourite inner-city trails. I had no choice—I wouldn’t let myself clock 10-minute kilometres. 

28km: Sunday traffic

Outside of Kings Park, crossing Mounts Bay Road killed me. The Sunday traffic was too intense and kept me flat on my feet for what seemed like minutes. It reminded me how far behind my expected time I was. But worst of all, they gave me permission to stop. And when a gap in the traffic permitted me to cross, I didn’t want to start again. I needed these breaks now. 42 minus 28—holy shit, still 14km to go. 

My insides were rebelling. I wasn’t desperate to pee—I had no fluids left—but I couldn’t stomach another gel. The thought of that sticky mess in my dry mouth was unbearable. What does it matter? I thought. Nothing can save me now. Except maybe one of those drink bottles I kept seeing. Or one of those bikes, for that matter.

I messaged Laura as I rounded the long straight alongside the river at the South Perth foreshore, a place I’d run many times before for easy 10km jaunts, with a delightful coffee on the other side of it. Today it was a different scene. I punched in the letters to my phone: I’m hurting. She sent me a big DIG DEEP. I stored that message in the back of my head.

34km: Dig deep!

I was so thirsty it made me nauseous. This is dangerous, a small voice whispered. I shoved the thought aside. People had done worse. And then it hit me—this was a primal experience. There were no race bibs, no hydration stations, no cheering crowds, no structured training plans. Just me, running because I decided to. And it was possible. It just really, really hurt.

With 8km to go, I understood why people quit with only a couple of miles left. I got it. I was toast.

I slumped along, Canning Highway reappearing beside me, as did Burswood Park in my blurred vision. DIG DEEP. I didn’t want to. God, I didn’t want to. But I told myself: just try it.

It fucking hurt. My legs were swollen, my joints ached, my feet felt like bricks. An old lady dinged her bike bell like an impatient visitor at a reception desk and chirped, “On your right, on your right.” I barked back, “Okay okay okay okay okay.” She chuckled. “Do you prefer the bell or my voice? I never know which to use—”

“I don’t care, whatever,” I huffed. I wanted to lie down on the concrete. My neck even hurt from simply holding my head up.

38km: It may as well have been 100 marathons to go

A few kilometres left. I must’ve looked like hell. This was so stupid. But I didn’t regret it. Oddly, that thought never entered my mind. I just kept thinking about those runners who quit so close to the finish. I understood them. Every cell in my body was screaming: STOP.

Through Stadium Park, I was into Mount Lawley once more. 

I texted Laura to meet me at Hyde Park with water. Please. Her quick reply in the affirmative sealed it—I would finish this stupid marathon.

40km. I was almost there. My Strava app had better tell me “41km,” or I had miscalculated. I stopped calling him buddy. “Come on, asshole,” I muttered at the robotic voice.

41km: Finally…

I reached the straight to Hyde Park. I’d run along it countless times before, but now I hated it. Hyde Park wasn’t far, but may as well have been on the other side of the world. I was barely moving, dodging walkers, being overtaken by every runner in Perth.

I saw the finish—Laura, waiting in the shade. But was I pretty much at 42km? Pretty much? That would haunt me forever. So I turned left instead of right, running away from my finish line to clock up the extra metres. Every step was a battle. I turned again—400m to go. Oh my God. The happiest I’d felt in hours.

The finish: More than I ever could’ve expected

No more walking. I ran along the large pond at Hyde Park. My tear ducts threatened to open. I turned the corner—42 kilometres. I clapped my hands, tensed my arms—I HAD RUN A MARATHON.

But Laura was still ahead. I kept running. I passed through the trees on the awkward incline of the grassy hill, onto the gravel path, and there she was, phone raised, filming my final strides in the hardest thing I’d ever done. I ran to her, collapsed onto the grass, and closed my eyes, listening to her breath. The best finish line I could’ve imagined.

There is time before the marathon and time after it. Like waking from a dream and realising the impossible is possible. What does this mean for all the other things I thought unachievable?

List of Perth marathons in 2025

You don’t need to just wake up and do a marathon on a cool Sunday morning. Perth offers several marathons in 2025 for runners with as many bolts loose in their skull as I have. Here are some Perth marathons you can join in 2025:

How to prepare for a marathon in Perth

Luckily, Perth marathons don’t have many hills to worry about. They’re arguably the biggest killer of your legs. That said, preparing for a marathon requires dedication and a well-structured plan (unlike my own). 

Here are some popular training guides I’ve nicked from the web to help you along the way:

• Runna’s Perth Running Festival Marathon Training Plans: Specific plans tailored for the Perth Running Festival Marathon, considering the local course and conditions. 
• Nike’s Marathon Training Plan: An 18-week program designed to provide holistic coaching and guidance throughout your marathon journey.  
• Runner’s World Marathon Training Plans: Whether you’re a beginner or aiming for a personal best, Runner’s World offers plans tailored to different goals and fitness levels.  
• Boston Athletic Association Training Plans: Structured programs designed for various paces and experience levels, helping runners prepare for big races and distances.

Best Perth suburbs for running

We’re so fortunate in WA to have epic running suburbs. Here’s a list of my favourite running spots and why they might become yours too:

South Perth 

A scenic riverside run with uninterrupted views of the city skyline. The flat, well-paved paths along the foreshore make it perfect for a relaxing jog or a long-distance session. Plenty of spots to hydrate and stretch along the way.

Burswood 

Home to Optus Stadium and lush parklands, Burswood offers a mix of greenery and urban scenery. The paths are wide and smooth, with bridges providing slight inclines for variety. A great route to link up with South Perth or the city.

Kings Park 

One of Perth’s most iconic running spots, featuring trails with stunning city views, bushland, and challenging hills. The Jacobs Ladder staircase adds a serious leg workout, while quieter trails make for a peaceful escape from traffic and crowds.

Scarborough & Trigg Beaches 

Coastal running at its finest. A mix of beachside paths and soft sand options with ocean views and sea breezes to keep you cool. Early mornings and sunsets are particularly rewarding, with vibrant skies and fewer crowds.

Freeway Pedestrian Path 

A long, uninterrupted path stretching alongside the Mitchell and Kwinana Freeways. Perfect for marathon training, with few traffic lights and steady inclines. The sound of passing cars fades into the background, leaving a steady rhythm for pacing.

Remember to always play it safe when you’re running in Perth, especially a marathon distance. Keep an eye out for traffic, give way where appropriate and while music is always great, perhaps keep an ear out on your run too.

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