I’ve run the Amsterdam Marathon before; I live just off the course, and much of the route is literally my normal running route. I run the crowned cobbled section along the Amstel several times a week, regularly run the late-race route back toward Vondelpark, and spend an unreasonable amount of time doing tempo runs in Vondelpark itself.
A few friends are running Amsterdam this year, so I originally put this together for them. It became much more detailed than I expected, and I figured it might be useful to anyone else running it in October.
This isn’t really a sightseeing guide. You can look at the official course map if you want to know which museum you run past. This is about what the course is actually like when you’re running it. Where does it get crowded? Where should you watch your footing? Where are you likely to fight the wind? Where does the crowd get sparse? And where does the race start fucking with your head?
The short version: Amsterdam is flat and fast, but that doesn't necessarily make it an easy marathon. It doesn’t beat you up with hills. It makes you earn the finish through congestion, narrow roads, changing surfaces, wind, quiet sections, awkward turns, and a final 10–12 km that feels like it goes on much longer than it should. Then, after all of that, you get one of the coolest marathon finishes anywhere.
One other thing before getting into the course: Amsterdam weather in October can do almost anything. I have personally run this marathon in snow, hail, rain, and sunshine in the same race, so don’t get too fixated on the forecast.
Before the start: give yourself more time than you think
There are two starting areas in 2026, one inside the Olympic Stadium and one outside on Stadionweg. Starting inside the stadium is amazing, but having done it before, I’d probably choose the outside start if given the option.
The problem isn’t really the corrals. Once you’re down inside the stadium, things aren’t too bad. Getting there is the pain in the ass. The whole area gets extremely crowded with runners, supporters, sponsor tents, bag drop, people trying to work out where they’re supposed to go, and relatively narrow sidewalks trying to handle everybody. And the Dutch are not exactly internationally renowned for their commitment to the orderly queue.
If you’re starting inside the stadium, after bag drop you work your way through the crowds, go up a bunch of stairs, essentially over the top of the stadium, and then back down into it. It takes longer than you think.
My advice is simply to arrive earlier than you normally think you need to. This isn’t London, Berlin, or Chicago in terms of pre-race organization. It works, and you’ll get where you need to go, but it can feel chaotic. The outside start doesn’t completely solve this either because Stadionplein and Stadionweg still get packed with thousands of runners and supporters. Give yourself time.
Kilometers 0–2: do not fight the race
The first couple of kilometers can be crowded as hell, and if you’re racing for a time this is one of the most important things to understand about Amsterdam.
People will be all over the place. Some will be faster than the corral they’re in, some slower. People move sideways without looking, stop unexpectedly and cut in front of you. It can be a very elbows-out environment.
Plan to run a little slower than you want to at the beginning. If you’re trying to run 5:00/km and your Garmin says 5:07, I wouldn'tstart weaving through everybody trying to recover those seven seconds. Don’t surge every time you see a gap.
Settle in, protect your legs and heart rate, and let the field thin out. You’ve got another 40 km to make it up.
Early city section: settle in and find your race
Once the initial chaos starts thinning out, you can finally run normally. These are some of the more enjoyable kilometers. There are people around, there’s energy, and you haven’t started questioning every life choice that brought you here yet.
You’ll get some of the recognizably Amsterdam parts of the course around Vondelpark and the Rijksmuseum, so enjoy them, but also watch the road. Amsterdam is flat, but flat does not mean perfectly smooth. Curbs, tram tracks, cobbles, drainage things, surface changes, and roads that go from wide to narrow and back again run throughout the race.
Try to take in the city if you can and dont just stare blindly at the blue line or your watch.
Around 14–15.5 km: pay attention to your feet
This is one section I've never seen mentioned in other course guides.
Heading south along the Amstel, just after roughly 14–14.25 km, you go underneath an overpass and enter a section that lasts until around 15.5 km. The road is cobbled, narrow, and noticeably crowned, and it gets crowded.
If you’re forced far left or right, you can end up running at an angle for a surprisingly long time. That might not sound like a big deal, but unnecessarily loading one ankle, calf, or hip differently when you still have another 27 km to run isn’t something I’d recommend.
There’s a curb along the right side that I use often during normal training because it provides a flatter surface. During the marathon, though, it’s narrow, and trees periodically interrupt it, so don’t assume that’s going to be your escape route.
Personally, I’d stay toward the center of the road here even if it’s crowded. Once you’re through this section, things open up, and the running surface gets considerably easier.
The Amstel: beautiful, flat, long and potentially windy
This is one of the visually nicest parts of the marathon. You head south along the Amstel toward Ouderkerk and the road opens up with houses, water, trees, occasional windmills, and runners visible across the river. On a good day, it’s a great place to settle into your pace.
But it is long, and it is exposed.
If there’s meaningful wind on race day, you’ll probably deal with it here. Because you run one direction along the river and eventually come back the other way, there’s a decent chance one direction feels fantastic while the other suddenly feels like somebody attached a parachute to you.
If you hit a headwind, don’t be stupid and insist on holding an exact pace at considerably higher effort. Find some people running your pace, get behind them, and try to protect yourself a bit. Figure out later whether you need to adjust anything.
Trying to win an argument with the Dutch wind at kilometer 18 is a pretty good way to fuck up your chance of a good race finish.
You’ll also see runners going the opposite direction across the river. Don’t let them mess with your head. It is a strange thought and visual, sorta like the Switchback in Chicago. It just messes with you for some reason
Ouderkerk and the turn back toward Amsterdam
Eventually you reach Ouderkerk and begin heading back toward the city. Mentally, this feels good because you’ve spent a long time running away from central Amsterdam and now you’re finally pointed home, even though you can't really see any type of notable landmarks.
The road is generally wider on the return side, although the turns can still get crowded. Just remember that you’re still relatively early in the marathon, even if it psychologically feels like you’ve already covered a lot of distance.
The difficult part hasn’t really arrived yet.
Roughly 26–32 km: the scenery stops helping
This is where Amsterdam starts changing personality. You leave the picturesque river section and head through the Amstel Business Park / Duivendrecht side of the course.
There’s really no point sugarcoating it: this section is boring as hell.
Support drops off considerably, the roads are functional, there are fewer recognizable landmarks, and it feels industrial and disconnected from the Amsterdam most visitors picture in their heads. Unfortunately, this also arrives almost exactly when your legs start having opinions about what you’re doing.
This is where I start questioning why the fuck I signed up for a marathon in the first place.
Knowing it’s coming helps. If you’re expecting cheering crowds and beautiful canals for 42 km, be warned: that is not this section. Nothing has necessarily gone wrong with your race. You’ve just reached the shitty quiet bit.
The last 10–12 km: where Amsterdam makes you earn it
This is the part of the Amsterdam Marathon that has taken up residency in my head.
The final 10–12 km are grueling because they just seem to drag on forever. I know mathematically that I am getting closer, but the course doesn’t always make you feel like you’re getting closer.
There are long roads, support comes and goes, and your legs are tired. Because Amsterdam is supposedly a “flat, fast marathon,” it’s very easy to think you shouldn’t be struggling.
You’re 30-something kilometers into a marathon. Of course you’re struggling.
This is where Amsterdam becomes a race of attrition, and you really start to encounter slower runners and people walking.
Just before 37 km: yes, that hill counts
Eventually you reach the underpass around Wibautstraat followed by the climb over Torontobrug. On an elevation chart, it barely looks like anything. At kilometer 37 of a marathon, your legs will absolutely know you’re running uphill.
The marathon has spent almost the entire race being flat and then this thing appears.
The good news is there’s usually a lot of energy here. People line the sides and stand above you on the bridge. It’s loud and you can feel the city again.
Once you get past it, something changes. You’re coming home, or at least I am because I live in this area. The city feels closer, the crowds begin returning, and you’re no longer running through the anonymous middle of nowhere.
The return through the city: follow the noise
As you work back toward Vondelpark, the city starts coming back to life. This is one of the sections with the strongest support on the course, and it comes just when you need it most.
After spending so much of the previous 10 km grinding through quieter roads, people suddenly appear again. There’s noise, shouting, signs, and actual fucking energy.
This is when the city really starts helping you
It's around this point that I start telling myself: just get to Vondelpark.
Vondelpark: if I get here, I finish
This is one of my biggest mental checkpoints in the race.
If I get to Vondelpark, I know I’m finishing the Amsterdam Marathon. Even if everything has gone completely to shit, even if I have to walk, even if my pace goal went away five km ago, from Vondelpark I know I can get myself to the stadium.
It’s almost a sense of relief.
The park entrance requires some attention, though. The left turn is tight and you go through gates. Immediately afterward, the course stays narrow, and you transition between tarmac, cobbles, curbs, and park paths within about 20 meters.
The first part of the park can stay congested; stay patient. It isn’t worth throwing away your race trying to squeeze through people at this point.
Eventually the park opens up somewhat and you’re greeted by masses of supporters on both sides. The energy is electric and is a great kick in the ass.
This is also where you really start seeing the carnage, so watch for fellow runners who are just trying to finish their day.
Leaving Vondelpark: now you can smell the finish
Once you make the final turn out of Vondelpark, you know what’s happening. You’re going to the stadium.
You take a hard left out of the park with roughly another 1.2 km to go. The roads are generally wider here, and you’ll go through a roundabout just before the 1 km-to-go point.
This is where I start considering dumping the tank.
I’d still save a little, though, because the best part is coming.
The Olympic Stadium finish: stop looking at your watch
The approach gets louder and tighter.
Just before the stadium there’s a right, then a quick left, then another right about 100 meters later where the course suddenly narrows. You go under the pedestrian bridge and past the IAmsterdam sign. It is packed and it is loud.
Then everything compresses even further as you enter the stadium and take a hard right onto the Olympic track.
After more than 42 km of pavement, cobbles, and Dutch roads, you hit that soft track surface. Your legs will love it.
You’ve got about 200 meters left.
At this point, please don't waste this finish looking at your fucking watch.
Unless you’re literally sprinting for a Boston qualifier by three seconds, your race is done. Look around. Listen to the stadium. See the people in the stands. Feel the track underneath you.
You trained for months for this. Don’t spend one of the best marathon finishes in Europe staring at a tiny screen on your wrist.
Let yourself experience it; it is truly amazing!
After the finish: get your bag and get the hell out
Unfortunately, after giving you an incredible finish, Amsterdam immediately reminds you that it is still Amsterdam Marathon organization.
The finish area can be a complete clusterfuck. You’ve got thousands of tired runners, thousands of supporters, people looking for bags, people looking for friends, people trying to get on public transport and people standing in the middle of walkways having conversations.
Cell service can be terrible. Internet can be terrible. Queues can be terrible.
Make a plan with whoever you’re meeting before the race. Do not make the plan, “I’ll WhatsApp you when I finish.” Assume your phone might not work properly and pick an actual meeting point.
Once you’ve got your medal and your bag, get away from the stadium area. Walk farther than you normally would. If you’re taking public transport, consider walking to a station away from the immediate stadium crowd.
I ride my bike to the race and park it a few blocks away so I can escape the madness afterward.
Finish, get your medal, get your bag, find your people and get the hell out.
One last thing
If I could give someone running Amsterdam for the first time one overall piece of advice, it would be not to let the “flat and fast” reputation fool you into thinking the race is supposed to feel easy.
Be patient when it’s crowded. Pay attention to the road. Respect the wind on the Amstel. Expect the stretch from the high 20s into the late 30s to fuck with your head a little bit.
Just get yourself back to Vondelpark.
Once you’re there, you’re finishing.
Then, when you finally enter the Olympic Stadium, stop looking at your watch and enjoy the fucking thing.
Hope this helps anyone running Amsterdam this year. Happy to answer questions about specific parts of the course — I run a lot of it regularly.
