Berlin has been on my list for a while. I still want more time to train and feel better prepared for the distance. But one day, I would love to stand on that starting line.

I can see why so many runners go there chasing a personal best. The course is unusually flat, with long straight sections, and its history is full of world records. That combination has given Berlin its reputation as a PB course. It is easy to look at those results and start imagining your own finish time.

This year, though, I kept thinking about what happened before the finish.

The last two kilometres

Tigst Assefa was still threatening the world record late in the women's race. Then, around 40 kilometres, something went wrong with her right leg. Her stride changed, and she began to limp. She eventually won in 2h 11m 04s, a course record, after a painful final two kilometres. The organiser reported that she went to hospital afterward for assessment.

It was hard to watch. She had been so close to something extraordinary, with so little of the race left.

There is a joke in running that a marathon has only two outcomes. You run a PB, or you blow up. I understand the ambition behind it, especially watching someone pursue a world record. But those last kilometres made the joke feel inadequate. Assefa had won the race and set a course record, while also losing her chance at the world record and finishing hurt. A result can contain all of that at once.

Fifty finishes. I’m still dreaming of one.

As I read more about this year's race, another runner's story stayed with me.

Wilfried Köhnke is 78. This year, he completed Berlin for the 50th time, finishing in 4h 39m 39s.

Fifty finishes at the same marathon. I am still hoping to get there once.

In an interview before the race, he spoke about how his training had changed. During one earlier marathon preparation period, he had run 68 kilometres a week. These days, he said, his average was 43. His personal best dated back to 1985, yet he still wanted to prepare for Berlin and race it.

That detail moved me. So much time had passed, and running still had a place in his week. The amount had changed. The desire to take part was still there.

His story made me think about my own future. Years from now, I hope running will still be part of my life too.

My own little win

For now, I have something closer to home to celebrate. This week, I completed a 30K run.

After every run, I get to open a Little Win in our app, Rayvik. It feels a bit like opening a blind box: I never know which card I’ll get. Then it “prints” onto my phone screen like a little receipt, complete with little beeps as it rolls out. I find myself looking forward to that small ritual. This one was for my 30K.

This is a big part of why I enjoy running. It gives me a goal outside work, something I can make time for and gradually improve at. Finishing a run gives me a sense of having done something for myself. I feel better afterward, and often happier too.

I also like talking through my runs with Mel, my AI coach in Rayvik. That encouragement has become part of what I enjoy about running.

Thirty kilometres is where I am this week. For someone else, the win might be a first kilometre, a comfortable 5K, or finding time to run regularly again. I like the idea that we can each have a goal that matters to us, and build toward it with sensible training and room to recover. There will be weeks when the plan needs to change. I want to leave room for those too.

I still want my day in Berlin. Until then, I have another training run to look forward to.