For me, 10K is a tough race. The half marathon feels easier: once you settle into cruise mode, you just keep going until around the 15–16 km mark — that’s when the real work begins. Your legs get heavy, but your mind stays calm: “Just 25% left. I can grind it out.”
But 10K? Totally different. The pace is sharp right from the gun, and your muscles start burning by kilometer 3. Your brain, sensing the pressure, starts looking for signs that the finish is getting closer — ticking off kilometers. That’s never a good sign, because kilometers don’t tick by fast enough, and your mind becomes obsessed with chasing the next number.
When you’re not thinking about the finish line, the suffering is delayed. In a big-city marathon, for example, the first 21 km fly by. Up to 30 km, you’re running in a crowd. And even after that, it’s comforting to know that everyone is struggling — not just you. That shared pain weirdly gives you strength.
You’ve got to fight all the way to the end.
By kilometer 5 of a 10K, I’m already bargaining with myself to just hang on for “two more.” But on the Moscow Night 10K, once you hit kilometer 7, you’re in the Luzhniki zone. You loop around the finish arch like a flower petal, and you can hear the DJs and announcers celebrating the elites crossing the line. Quitting is no longer on the table. The only option? Dig deep and keep going.
Then come the faster runners — often younger — gliding past with energy to spare in the final 2K. And it helps, because that sparks something competitive inside me. I don’t want to let them go. With 1 km to go, a woman passes me. I had let plenty of guys go by without a fight, but this time I said, “No way.” I latched on and rode her pace, stealing 3–4 seconds in the end.
A guy I had been trading leads with pulled away from me 2 km before the finish. I had accepted that. But with 50 meters to go, something clicked — I launched into a sprint. Every time I wonder: Where does that last gear come from? We crossed the line together with 35:53 finish time.
The Feel of a Night Race
Every race tells its own story: little battles, sharp bursts of pain, the echo of drummers pounding beside the course, friends who pull you forward, rivals who step on your heels. None of it repeats. That’s the magic of racing.
But the Moscow Night 10K offers even more.
The late start time and the unique running conditions — darkness, deep shadows, sudden patches of bright light — create an atmosphere like no other. The tree-lined paths of Luzhniki feel like a tunnel of blackness one moment, then floodlighted the next. Running here is like diving into a darkened room over and over again.
New Start, More Runners
This year’s start was at the embankment near Moscow-City. Most runners arrived by city train, having left their bags at the finish line in Luzhniki. Moscow runners — spoiled by comfort — were clearly thrown off by the logistics. Casual commuters were baffled by the sheer volume of people. But it was worth it. The new route doubled the number of available race entries: from 8,000 to 18,000
The Finish Line — Rave-Style Celebration
Luzhniki is sacred ground for runners in Moscow — even in Russia. And finishing there at night, with strobe lights, music, and a rave-style celebration, is something everyone should experience at least once.
And Then — Getting Home
The final bonus? You get to appreciate how smooth Moscow’s public transport really is. There’s a metro stop 200 meters from the finish, the city train just 400 meters away. Or — even better — you can hop on a rental scooter or e-bike and ride home through the empty nighttime streets. Cruising through a sleeping Moscow? That’s pure joy.