The Bath Half 2025

The atmosphere in Race Village is wonderful, unique, and filled with excitement. There's a crackling energy in the air as runners arrive and start preparing for the race ahead, meeting up with friends and chatting to strangers. Everyone is here for the same reason and nobody can wait to get started. There are tents set up all around the field for each of the many charity runners, plus a warm up area in front of a small stage with a DJ, and a huge tent for storing baggage. That's not forgetting the enormous array of portaloos that quickly attract long queues as runners go for several nervous pre-race wees.

Race Village in all its glory. People, tents, excitement.

There are twelve thousand people taking part in the Bath Half today and the park crackles with energy. Scott and I arrive a full two hours ahead of time and make our way to the tent for Team RUHX. There are eighty-four of us running in aid of the Royal United Hospital and everyone is eager to get on the road. The team organisers have spoiled us today; there are bananas, jelly sweets, croissants, drinks - anything that a runner might want before setting off on a 13.1 mile trek.

Our heroes, prepared for battle and ready to go.

The temperature in the park is low this morning, with the occasional bitter wind that blows across the open plain and sends us scurrying back into the shelter of the tent. This is punctured now and then by the sun emerging and basking everyone in its lovely warmth. Quite a contradiction. Looking around at the other runners, it seems that nobody can agree on the best gear to wear. We choose to layer up - I'm in long trousers, an undershirt, a loose top, and the RUH vest, while others wear a vest and shorts. Initially, I've made the right choice, but I'll get warm soon enough.

During the wait (which is not as bad as I feared, there's lots going on), I meet up with Ed, a friend and one hell of a runner. He's an incredible athlete. In a few weeks, he's taking part in the unofficial Reverse London Marathon - running from the finish line the night before the event, ending at the start point in Greenwich. He's aiming to do that in three and a half hours. We ask Ed what time he hopes to get today. He says, "I'm hoping to take it quite easy. Maybe an hour and forty-five?"

Our hero and Speedy Gonzales.

Before we know it, the time has come. Runners begin moving toward their start lines in wave order. We take part in a short warm-up to get the blood moving, then it's our turn to filter out of the park and onto the main road.

Follow these huge arrows and you can't go wrong.

Thousands of runners huddle up together, trying to make as much space as possible. We're in wave seven, with wave eight directly behind us, watching with eager eyes. The tension reaches a fever pitch as the final minutes count down and then - we're off. The crowd starts moving forward. At first, we're walking slowly, then we're able to start a gentle jog. Finally, we cross the start line and the 2025 Bath Half is on.

The vague black archway in the distance is the starting line.

The route around Bath is a pretty good loop. We start by running downhill and heading past Royal Victoria Park, then out toward the dual carriageway heading to Bristol, before turning back and entering the city again. We'll do two loops of this area in total, but the first lap has an extra section where we continue past the centre and out past the Rec Ground, until we turn a sharp hairpin and come back on ourselves.

There are worse ways to see the city.

Runners on their second lap are kept to the left on the roads, while those of us just starting stay to the right. It's quite a shocking sight to get on the road at the beginning and already spot the elite runners tearing past, going hell for leather at seven miles deep. I later learn that the men's winner, Jake Smith, smashed the course in sixty two minutes, with Abbie Donnelly representing the ladies at sixty nine minutes. meaning that they were almost finished by the time we set off!

The atmosphere from the spectators is absolutely bloody amazing. They shout and scream and cheer and clap and hold up signs and blow horns. It's impossible not to smile and wave and soak in the vibes. It's equally impossible not to want to push hard, spurred on by all the support and encouragement. Everyone is having a great time and the crowds line up almost every part of the route. There are even the odd handfuls of people watching on that long trip back toward the city on the leftmost portion of the map.

A few miles deep and still smiling.

The sun comes out almost immediately. Within two miles, I've rolled up my sleeves to try and cool down. Now and then, a cold wind blows through the streets, but the majority of the run takes place in lovely crisp sunlight. We're toasty and warm, although the same can't be said for the spectators, all of whom are absolute troopers and keep up their energy despite the chill.

Once we turn back toward the city and start following the wide road into Bath, the landscape changes. Industrial buildings give way to small businesses. The huge railway bridge acts as a tall, dark barrier to our right, and it's a relief to finally get past it (seriously, it goes on for far longer than you realise). Crowds of people become more and more frequent, until the pavement is completely taken up by cheering spectators again and the energy hits a new high. Brass bands play at the roadside, radio stations have set up special booths to play music and commentate on the run, and the roar of constant support is beyond fantastic.

So. Many. People.

To our left, the elite runners continue to file past at a steady clip, now over nine miles into the circuit and still moving at a cracking pace. As for Scott and myself, we're doing really well. I can feel that our pace is quicker than usual, but we're keeping up and overtaking other runners now and then.

Every so often, we pass someone being attended by a paramedic on the side of the road, probably around five or six in total. Their faces are contorted with pain and devastation and most of them look to have pulled something in their legs. I consider myself very lucky to not encounter such a scenario in my runs.

Finally, our route diverges with those on the second lap. While they veer to the left and cross the river toward the centre, we continue straight and carry on. Now the left side of the road is filled with people who have already finished the hairpin turn and are running back on themselves. I was prepared for this moment from looking at the map, but I had no idea how long this section truly is. It must be at least a mile and a half, but feels so, so much longer, made worse by passing people who have already done it. Every time I see a junction or a roundabout ahead, I assume we're coming to the end, but - nope! - the course keeps going, Eventually, we turn onto a wide street lined by those familiar massive Georgian-style houses you always associate with Bath and turn the hairpin at long last. Now we head back on ourselves and run down to the river.

There are a few runners in costumes here and there. We see a classic Rhino Runner, a man dressed as a postbox, and a guy wearing a full disco glitterball. The runners supporting a breast cancer charity all wear a single large boob. I said to one guy, "I bet you feel a right tit." He laughed. There's another man in an amazing get-up, who I will talk about later. He deserves his own mention.

By now, we're making our way up an incline and following the road back into the city. We've crossed mile seven and are still going strong. The path splits off again, with the elites on mile twelve continuing ahead while we turn to the left and run back towards Royal Victoria Park for the second loop.

Lap two is much, much harder. The crowd's energy keep me going for most of it. We pass the same sights again, waving to the supporters on the Team RUH bus, high-fiving kids on the side of the road, grabbing jellied sweets as they're offered and even tapping the signs bearing Mario power-up mushrooms. Anything to keep going and stay strong. As we reach the dual carriageway and veer around for the long, long straight, I confess to Scott that I don't know if I can maintain this pace much more. He agrees that we can ease up a little, so we do - but not by much.

Now we're running on the left hand side of the road, but there's nobody to our right. It feels like everyone is now on the second lap. Somewhere around mile nine, I get a message from Ed. He's finished already and his time is an incredible one hour forty.

The quieter end of the loop, far away from town.

We press on. Past the radio stations and brass bands and swelling spectators. Past the railway bridge and the industrial buildings and the small businesses. Past the river and the water stations and the bridges. Finally, we follow the elite runners from earlier and turn left, crossing the river, heading into the city once again. This the only time I have to slow to a walk - I can't breathe and run and drink at the same time anymore. We follow the path around the river and pass the twelve mile marker. This is it. We're approaching the end now.

But the Bath Half is hiding one final, awful, nasty trick up its sleeve. As we draw closer to the finish line, the road starts to incline. It didn't feel as bad before, when we were seven miles deep. But now our legs have turned to rubber and our knees are creaking in complaint. It becomes harder to draw breath. The higher we climb, the steeper the road becomes, somehow getting to an absurd angle. It feels more like mountaineering than running. At one point, I get caught behind someone moving much slower, forcing me to walk, sidestep, and start running again. That one moment hurts more than anything else.

Now we push through the gates and into the park, still running uphill. The cheering reaches a crescendo. Spectators are going wild from both sides, screaming the names printed on our vests, yelling for us not to stop. This is about the point when I spy two familiar faces - Hayley and Suze from work. They're screaming for me and jumping up and down and their encouragement helps me get up the last bit of this awful hill. Now the road finally flattens out and our goal is just ahead.

There it is! The finish line!

All the struggle is worthwhile. Scott and I cross the line together, barely able to get enough breath for a cursory cheer. It's over. We've done it. Not only have we finished the Bath Half, we've managed a time of two hours and twenty minutes - a full nine minutes faster than our previous best in Chippenham! We're elated and thrilled as we collect our shirts and medals and wind back to the Race Village.

Survivors. Champions. Heroes.

And that, finally, is that. We completed the race, ticked a massive target off our bucket lists, and had a blast doing it. Even when things got tough, the atmosphere kept us moving. I cannot fault the amazing spectators for everything and all their wonderful support during those thirteen miles.

There is one more thing I want to mention. There was a man we passed at the starting line who was running for Great Ormand Street Children's Hospital. Not only was he older than us, he was running with a cement mixer on his back and pushing a loaded wheelbarrow. We saw him one more time, as we we making our way back down the hill toward the train station. The man was pushing the wheelbarrow up the final hill and still bloody running.

Cement mixer man.

This is what these events are all about. This is an ordinary man doing something totally superhuman. Yes, the elite runners are impressive physical specimens, but this man is an absolute hero. He was only about forty minutes behind us and still moving at an amazing pace, despite the hill and the weight on his back. What a champion.

With that, the Bath Half 2025 comes to an end. Now we have six weeks to prepare for a challenge that's double the length. Next stop: Manchester.