By Jahnedu IBEKWELU
THE Access Bank Lagos City Marathon (ABLCM) recently marked its 10th anniversary, a milestone that should have been a celebration of growth, excellence, and global recognition. Instead, it served as a stark reminder of how much work remains to be done to elevate this event to the standard of other world-class marathons.
As someone who has participated in multiple editions of the race, I can attest to its potential. However, after a decade, the marathon continues to grapple with fundamental issues that undermine its credibility and frustrate its participants.
The story of my experience with the ABLCM begins in 2023, when I first decided to run the race. A fellow runner had warned me about the challenges I might face, particularly the lack of water on the course. Her advice—”Put money in your pocket. You’ll need it to buy water”—was both practical and prophetic. In all my years of running, that was the strangest advice I’ve ever received from a fellow runner. It wasn’t the suggestion itself that struck me as odd—hydration is non-negotiable for any serious runner. No, what made it peculiar was the context. It befuddles the mind to imagine buying water on the course of a big city marathon. At the time, I dismissed it as an exaggeration, but by the time I crossed the finish line, I realised how accurate her warning had been.
The 2023 edition of the marathon was a mixed bag. While the race organisers managed to close the roads (for the first 32km, at least) and provide water stations (with no water at them after the 30km mark), the execution left much to be desired. Water points were spaced too far apart—4 kilometres, to be exact—a decision that defies the basic principles of marathon organisation. In a city like Lagos, where humidity often exceeds 75 per cent, proper hydration is not a luxury; it is a necessity. Handing runners room-temperature water bottles at such intervals was not only inadequate but also counterproductive. Carrying a 60cl bottle for kilometres added unnecessary weight, making an already gruelling race even more challenging.
The most egregious issue, however, was the practice of ferrying runners who had given up to the finish line and awarding them medals. This practice, which I witnessed firsthand, is unheard of in reputable marathons worldwide. It undermines the integrity of the event and devalues the achievements of those who actually complete the race. A marathon is a test of endurance, discipline, and determination. Allowing participants to skip the majority of the course and still receive medals is a disservice to the sport and its athletes.
A marathon is a test of endurance, discipline, and determination. Allowing participants to skip the majority of the course and still receive medals is a disservice to the sport and its athletes.
Fast forward to 2024, and the situation had not improved. If anything, it had worsened. The race started an hour earlier than the time stated in the registration email, leaving many runners, including myself, scrambling to catch up. Once again, water stations ran dry after the 34-kilometre mark, forcing runners to rely on local vendors. The most shocking development, however, was the absence of medals at the finish line.
Exhausted runners who had just completed 42.2 kilometres in sweltering heat were met with chaos and disappointment. To add insult to injury, street urchins were seen hawking medals at ₦3,000 to desperate participants. Exhausted runners, desperate for a memento of their achievement, reluctantly paid up. The organisers claimed they had been “overwhelmed” by the street boys, a feeble excuse given the presence of armed police and soldiers. How these boys gained access to the medals—and the finish line—remains a mystery.
To add insult to injury, street urchins were seen hawking medals at ₦3,000 to desperate participants.
The 2025 edition, billed as the 10th-anniversary race, offered a glimmer of hope but ultimately fell short of expectations. While there were improvements—such as better road closures and more consistent water stations—the organisers still failed to address critical issues. The roads were closed to traffic until 1 p.m., but buses continued to ferry “runners” to the finish line. To get there, the buses had to clog the roads, pushing the actual runners to broken sidewalks. The medals, though of higher quality than in previous years, were still being sold by unauthorised individuals, only that the prices were probably adjusted for inflation: they were on sale for ₦5,000 this year. These recurring problems highlight a lack of accountability and a failure to learn from past mistakes.
The ABLCM has potential. It could be a flagship event for Lagos, a city teeming with energy and ambition. But after a decade, it still behaves like a toddler—unsteady, unpredictable, and prone to missteps. The organisers need a complete overhaul, starting with the inclusion of experienced runners in the planning process. After 10 years, the ABLCM should be a source of pride for Lagos and Nigeria. Instead, it remains a work in progress, plagued by the same issues that have marred it from the beginning. The organisers must take responsibility for these shortcomings and implement meaningful changes. Here are a few suggestions:
Hydration:
Water stations should be placed at intervals of no more than 2 kilometers, and the water should be cold. This is not an unreasonable demand, especially given the resources available to the organizers, and the very harsh weather in Lagos on February.
2. Road closures:
The roads must remain closed for the entire duration of the race. Allowing buses to ferry runners to the finish line is unacceptable and undermines the integrity of the event. It also endangers the actual runners. A runner should not be running off a marathon course from a bus.
Medals:
Every runner who completes the race should receive a medal. The fact that this basic expectation is still not being met after 10 years is inexcusable. For many, the medal remains the only justification for running a marathon. Only 1 per cent or so of the world’s population have ever run a marathon. Those who challenged themselves enough to do it should be given a medal.
Transparency and accountability:
The organisers must be more transparent about their processes and hold themselves accountable for their mistakes. This includes addressing the issue of unauthorised individuals selling medals at the finish line. A finish line of a marathon is a sanctuary that should be accessible only to those who made the sacrifice required to access it. Opening it up to all undermines the event.
Technology:
Every marathon worth its name has introduced technology in their planning and execution. I sit in the comfort of my home and track friends on marathon courses across the globe. The introduction of an app and the use of timing chips would go a long way in improving the organisation of the race. These tools would not only enhance the experience for participants but also lend legitimacy to the event.
The ABLCM has the potential to be a world-class marathon, but realising that potential will require a concerted effort from all stakeholders. Access Bank, as the primary sponsor, must take a more active role in ensuring that the event meets international standards. The organisers must prioritise the needs of the runners and address the issues that have plagued the race for years.
The ABLCM at 10 is like a child who, despite reaching a significant developmental milestone, still exhibits the behavioural patterns of a toddler. Parents expect certain milestones as their children grow: walking, talking, feeding themselves, and eventually, demonstrating independence and responsibility. A 10-year-old who cannot perform these basic functions would rightly be a cause for concern. Similarly, a 10-year-old marathon that still struggles with the basics—hydration, road closures, and medal distribution—is a cause for concern.
The marathon’s inability to provide adequate hydration is akin to a 10-year-old who cannot feed themselves. The failure to keep roads closed is like a child who cannot walk steadily. And the absence of medals at the finish line is comparable to a toddler who throws a tantrum instead of communicating their needs. These are not just minor hiccups; they are fundamental failures that call into question the event’s maturity and readiness to be taken seriously on the global stage.
The shortcomings of the ABLCM are not just a matter of inconvenience for runners; they reflect broader issues of governance, accountability, and professionalism in Nigeria. The marathon is a microcosm of the challenges we face as a nation: a lack of attention to detail, a disregard for excellence, and a tendency to prioritise optics over substance.
The Access Bank Lagos City Marathon at 10 is a race with immense potential, but it is also a race that continues to fall short of expectations. The issues that have plagued it for years—poor hydration, inadequate road closures, and the absence of medals—are not insurmountable, but they require a concerted effort to address.
It is time for the organisers, sponsors, and government to come together and take the necessary steps to elevate the ABLCM to the standard of other world-class marathons. Until then, it will remain a source of frustration for runners and a missed opportunity for Lagos and Nigeria.
Jahnedu is an active runner and budding cyclist. He has participated in many marathons both within and outside Nigeria. He is also a mainstay in the annual charity half marathon organised by Run Club Abuja (RCA). The 2025 Access Bank Lagos City Marathon is his third participation in the event (2023, 2024, 2025). He can be reached via jahneduibekwelu@gmail.com.