Guest contributor Yosr Kooli is a Dubai-based runner with four marathons, three World Marathon Major stars and, by her own count, more rejection emails than she’d like to admit. Here she writes about this year’s London ballot, the many ways race organisers say no, and her latest attempt to convince Sydney to say yes.
It’s Thursday, 9 July, and 1,338,544 runners are waiting for the same email.
By 6:30 p.m. Dubai time, I still haven’t received mine.
Living in the UAE means I’ve already lived an entire day while waiting. I woke up, went to the gym for a CrossFit class, went to work, refreshed my inbox like my life depended on it, and made it back home while London took its time deciding my fate.
This year, though, I actually have reasons to be optimistic. For the first time, the marathon itself will take place over two days, which means more spots and a better chance of getting one through the ballot. Surely, after six attempts, the odds are finally moving in my favour. Maybe this is finally my year.
My running WhatsApp groups are operating like emergency response centres. Instagram is divided between people announcing they’ve got in, and the rest of us trying very hard to be happy for them.
At 7:07 p.m., my phone finally buzzes.
Subject: Here are your results.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and picture myself crossing the finish line. It’s all about visualisation and manifestation, right?
I open it.
NOT THIS TIME.
In a font size that really wants me to feel it.
I burst out laughing because, really, am I even surprised? You’d think I’d have developed some emotional resilience by now. Apparently, what I’ve developed instead is an impressive ability to keep applying.
I’ve started referring to these emails as my annual Dear John letters. Except mine come from marathon organisers, and rather than ending a relationship, they inform me that I won’t be spending the next four to six months rearranging my entire life around a Sunday morning in their city.
And after receiving enough of them, I’ve noticed that every marathon has its own way of saying no.
London is direct. Tokyo prefers a little suspense. Five applications, five rejections, and it still insists on sending me a link to find out for myself. I particularly enjoy having to participate in my own rejection.
Cape Town has mastered efficiency. Your Sanlam Cape Town Marathon ballot was not successful. Straight in the subject line. No need to open the email. As someone who works in communications, I respect that. At least somebody understands the importance of getting to the point.
This year, though, I’d decided not to leave London to chance. Before the ballot results were even announced, I’d applied to five charities. Not random ones, either. I chose causes genuinely close to my heart, from Alzheimer’s and dementia to lupus and pancreatic cancer. I wrote motivation letters, shared personal stories, and explained why I wanted to represent them.
I also applied through Abbott World Marathon Majors. Having earned three stars, I was eligible to try another route, and I wasn’t about to ignore an opportunity.
Between the ballot, five charities, and Abbott, surely somebody would let me run.
London rejected me first. Then the charities started responding. Then Abbott. What I’d actually done was organise for my rejection letters to arrive in instalments.
If marathon rejection had a loyalty programme, I’d have reached Platinum status by now.
The truly ridiculous part is that I’m not an elite athlete looking for a contract. I simply want to run these incredible races, collect another medal, earn my post-race banana, and eventually complete the series.
If you ever need proof of how determined I am, look at my inbox. Plenty of rejection, four marathons, and three Major stars later, I’m still here, applying for the next one.
Two weeks ago, the Sydney ballot opened, giving me another chance to try my luck. Unlike London, Tokyo, and Cape Town, Sydney has never rejected me. At this stage, that alone feels promising.
Sydney became a World Marathon Major in 2025, but I had to let that one go. I was already running Chicago in October, and adding another marathon at the end of August was a level of ambition my bank account and Q4 work calendar strongly objected to.
So naturally, this time I entered the ballot. And while I was filling out the form, there was really only one thing I wanted to say:
Dear Sydney,
I have three Major stars, an impressive collection of unsuccessful applications, and absolutely no evidence that I know when to stop.
I’m willing to fly across the world, spend months training, and run 42.2 kilometres through your streets. All I ask is that you consider my application favourably.
And if you don’t, please at least come up with a new subject line.
I’ve already reached my Dear John quota for the year.
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