10/10/2026

Patras Half-marathon ~ A Little Further, Together

A photographic journal

Paul and Iasonas running side by side along a tree-lined street during the Patras half marathon.

On 10 October 2026, I ran the Patras half marathon with my closest friend, Iasonas. Fifteen years of friendship, a well-organised route, and a simple plan: run together and enjoy it.

I had done a little training, though nowhere near enough to call it proper preparation. I trusted my fitness and the fact that I had finished a half marathon before. Somewhere in my head, I thought I would be the one carrying him through the difficult kilometres. That prediction aged beautifully.

A little further, together

01 / RIGHT AT THE BACK

We settled into a comfortable pace, mostly around 7:40–7:50 per kilometre. There was conversation, laughter, and plenty of time to take in the city. On the pedestrian street leading down from the central square towards the waterfront, we realised we were literally the last two runners.

Just ahead was a small group of older runners, probably in their sixties and beyond, moving along with an ease I admired. We chatted, exchanged jokes, and greeted each other whenever we traded places. Being at the back had its own little community.

View down a sunlit street in Patras, with apartment balconies, trees, and mountains in the distance.

Pink and purple evening clouds above apartment rooftops and television aerials in Patras.

My head emptied of everyday things and filled with the experience. Running beside my friend, talking, enjoying ourselves. For a while, I had absolutely nothing else on my mind.

02 / ANOTHER LAP

The course took us around twice. Passing the start and finish area halfway through brought back a familiar thought from my previous half marathon: damn, I still have all of that to do again. This time, though, I felt comfortable. Our rhythm was working, and I was enjoying being there.

Lately I had been spending more time lifting weights and less time running. I felt stronger, but the longer distance exposed the gap in my preparation. Around kilometre seventeen or eighteen, my legs began to run out of answers.

Paul and Iasonas seen from behind on a Patras street, wearing running clothes with towels over their shoulders.

Close-up of Paul running the Patras half marathon in sunglasses and a hydration vest, wearing bib 21477.

Near kilometre nineteen, I walked briskly for roughly five hundred metres, gathered myself, and started running again. In my head, I still had something of Kipchoge’s elegance. The video afterwards suggested a rather different interpretation. Fair enough.

03 / STILL SOME FUEL LEFT

Iasonas still had fuel in the tank. This was his first race, and he had gone straight for a half marathon. When he began pulling ahead, I told him to keep going. He called back from further up the road: “Come on, Godzilla! Keep going!”

That is the moment I remember most clearly: watching him move ahead and feeling proud of him. Over the years, this man has become an inspiration to me. Seeing him find that strength, on a day we were sharing, made me happy.

Paul running in Patras, with a Strava overlay showing his half-marathon route and activity statistics.

I had expected to support him through most of the race. In the final kilometres, he was the one supporting me, even from a distance. After fifteen years of friendship, we had found another way to take turns carrying each other.

He finished about a minute ahead of me. I crossed the line exhausted and relieved, with the joy of having a friend like that still very much with me.

Paul standing above the rooftops of Patras in a pink T-shirt at sunset.

04 / NEVER AGAIN. UNTIL MORNING.

My finish was around ten minutes slower than my previous half marathon, but the experience felt better, and I was less wrecked afterwards. There was still plenty of soreness: my left foot hurt, my shoulders had tightened, and by the evening I simply switched off. At that point, I was ready to retire my running shoes.

Three friends posing together in running clothes with their race medals in Patras.

Paul and Iasonas running together at dusk during the Patras half marathon.

I woke after one in the morning and ordered two pita gyros. I ate one, fell asleep on the sofa watching Netflix, woke again around four with a ridiculous appetite, and ate the other. Then I slept until nine. The jokes about our one-minute gap had to wait for coffee before we left.

By morning, I knew I would do it again. With more consistent preparation, and a little more attention to endurance. Patras remains a city I can imagine living in, close to people I love. Running through it with Iasonas gave me another memory of that possible everyday life. For those hours, my busy head had found some room to breathe.

MEMORY CARD