Thirty-Eight Thousand People and One Very Long Road
The starting corrals at Shinjuku fill up well before dawn. By 7 AM, the area around the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building looks like a convention for people who voluntarily wake up at 4:30 on a Sunday — which, technically, it is. Runners in garbage bags and disposable ponchos huddle together, breath visible in the March air, doing that nervous shuffle-jog that accomplishes nothing but feels necessary.
The Tokyo Marathon is one of the six Abbott World Marathon Majors, alongside Boston, London, Berlin, Chicago, and New York. The 2026 edition falls on March 1st. About 38,500 runners will cover 42.195 kilometers through central Tokyo, and somewhere north of a million people will line the streets to watch them do it.
The Course, Neighborhood by Neighborhood
The gun goes off at 9:10 AM. From the Metropolitan Government Building, the route heads east through Shinjuku’s skyscraper corridor, which at that hour catches the morning light in a way that makes every finisher photo look better than it should.
The first real landmark is the Imperial Palace moat around kilometer 5. By this point most runners have settled into pace, and the initial adrenaline has faded into the more honest question of whether this was a good idea.
Kanda and Nihonbashi come next — Tokyo’s old commercial heart. The Nihonbashi bridge was historically the starting point of Japan’s five major highways, a fact that feels more meaningful when you’re already tired and still have 25 kilometers to go.
The halfway mark brings you near Asakusa and Senso-ji. This is where the crowd support gets genuinely overwhelming. Taiko drums, dance troupes, hand-lettered signs, people handing out candy. The Tokyo Skytree looms in the background, which is useful for orientation and also for that one photo everyone takes.
The closing stretch runs through Ginza — all polished storefronts and wide boulevards — before the finish near Tokyo Station. The course is flat, which Tokyo Marathon organizers will remind you of repeatedly. March temperatures hover around 5-12°C, which is about as good as marathon weather gets.
Getting a Bib Number Is the Hard Part
Here’s the thing about the Tokyo Marathon: running it is straightforward. Getting in is not.
Roughly 330,000 people apply for those 38,500 spots each year. The general lottery usually opens in August, results come in September. The math is not encouraging. Charity entries exist — most require a minimum fundraising commitment that varies by organization. International tour packages are another option, though they tend to be expensive and bundle things you may not want.
If you do get in: race packet pickup happens at the Tokyo Marathon Expo, held at Tokyo Big Sight in the days before the race. The Expo is worth visiting even if you’re not running — gear deals, free samples, the general buzz of pre-race energy. On race day, plan to arrive at Shinjuku by 7:30 AM. Bag drop closes early, and they mean it.
What Nobody Warns You About
The post-race logistics are, frankly, a slog. You finish near Tokyo Station, collect your medal and heat sheet, and then face the reality of getting back to your hotel on legs that no longer work properly. The subway runs normally, but the walk to the nearest station feels approximately three times longer than it did yesterday.
Phone signal gets congested around the finish area. If you’re trying to meet someone, agree on a specific meeting point in advance — ‘near Tokyo Station’ is not specific enough when thirty thousand other people have the same idea.
Weather can be unpredictable. The average is 5-12°C, but I’ve seen race reports from years where rain turned the whole thing into a cold, soggy ordeal. Pack a disposable poncho for the start. You’ll throw it away by kilometer 3, but you’ll be glad you had it.
Also: the post-race muscle soreness plus Tokyo’s staircase-heavy subway system is a combination that will test your commitment to sightseeing for the next two days.
Watching the Race
You don’t need a bib to enjoy the Tokyo Marathon. The spectator experience is arguably better than most world majors, partly because Japanese crowd culture is just different — enthusiastic but organized, loud but not chaotic.
The Asakusa section around kilometers 20-25 has the best atmosphere. Local groups set up coordinated cheering stations, and the crowd is dense enough to feel like an event in itself. Ginza near the finish is also excellent, though it fills up fast.
Nihonbashi is the less obvious pick — fewer people, better sightlines, and you can actually move around. If you’re tracking a specific runner on the app, it’s easier to reposition from here.
Practical notes: dress warm if you’re standing outside for hours. A thermos of hot coffee, a portable cushion, and a fully charged phone are the essentials. Some street-side businesses hand out snacks to spectators, which is a nice touch that I’m not sure happens at any other major marathon.
The Aid Station Situation
Aid stations deserve their own mention because the Tokyo Marathon does them differently. Beyond the standard water and sports drinks, some stations offer rice balls, miso soup, and various Japanese snacks. It’s the kind of detail that sounds like a gimmick but actually matters at kilometer 35 when a warm cup of miso soup is the most comforting thing imaginable.
The stations are well-organized — volunteers are everywhere, and the handoffs are smooth. If you’ve run other majors where aid stations devolve into a slippery obstacle course of crushed cups, Tokyo will feel almost unreasonably civilized.
Making a Trip of It
Most runners fly in a couple of days early, which is the right call for jet lag and packet pickup. But if you can, add a day or two after the race.
March in Tokyo is pre-cherry-blossom season — the earliest varieties might be blooming at spots like Kawazu, but the main season is still a few weeks out. The city is less crowded than it will be in late March and April, which is a genuine advantage.
For race-related logistics, booking accommodation near the start (Shinjuku) or finish (Tokyo Station/Marunouchi area) saves morning stress. Hotels fill up for marathon weekend, so don’t wait too long. Trip.com is useful for comparing rates across the Shinjuku and Marunouchi areas — I’d prioritize location over luxury for race weekend specifically.
If you want to fill the pre-race days with something besides nervous pacing, KLOOK has a decent selection of Tokyo experiences — teamLab, food tours, that sort of thing. The sushi-making classes are surprisingly fun even if you’ve been to Tokyo before.
The Last Kilometer
The finish straight runs along the Gyoko-dori avenue toward Tokyo Station’s brick facade. It’s a good finish — wide, flat, with the crowd packed in on both sides.
Afterward, you’ll collect your things, wrap yourself in a heat sheet, and join the slow migration toward the nearest convenience store. The 7-Eleven onigiri you eat sitting on a curb in your medal and foil blanket will taste unreasonably good. Your Strava will say 42.2 kilometers. Your legs will say more.
The train home is quiet. Everyone on the Marunouchi Line with a finisher’s bag has the same expression — tired, satisfied, slightly dazed. Nobody talks much. That’s fine.