There is something curious about the way Nigeria approaches athletics these days.
Every other month, another city is hosting a marathon—Lagos, Abuja, Jos, and Enugu. The governors are there to flag it off, cameras are rolling, social media is buzzing, and like clockwork, a Kenyan or Ethiopian crosses the finish line first. The headline reads: “Thousands turn up for historic race!” But let’s be honest with ourselves: is it really?
The truth is, Nigeria is not, and has never been, a marathon nation. We do not have the history, the training culture, the high-altitude advantage—or even the athletes.
What we do have is a rich legacy in the sprints, hurdles and jumps. That is where we have always shone, that is where we have broken records and won medals.
Instead of building on our strengths, we are jumping on trends. Marathon after marathon, yet no local structure to support it, no grassroots development, and no credible success story to justify the craze.
It is like Brazil waking up one day to invest in curling—nice for the cameras, completely off-track.
Take the Lagos City Marathon as a case study. In 2025, it celebrated its 10th edition—a decade of consistent fanfare and big prize money.
But in all those years, how many Nigerian marathoners have risen from it to achieve international success? Zero.
In the 2025 edition, Kenyans came first, second and third in the men’s race. The women’s category? Ethiopians were first and second, a Kenyan came third.
Nigeria’s best performance? 8th place by Nyango Gyang Boyi. In the just-concluded Enugu Marathon, it was the same story—Kenya completed the top three. After 10 years, is that what we call progress?
Now compare that with the real results from the events where we excel. Tobi Amusan broke the women’s 100m hurdles world record in 2022, running a staggering 12.12s.
She became Nigeria’s first ever world champion in athletics. That did not come from a fun-run. It came from hard work, the right training environment, and years of elite competition.
Ese Brume has flown our flag proudly in the long jump. She holds the African record at 7.17m. In recent years, she has picked up an Olympic bronze, a World Championship silver and a Commonwealth gold. This is excellent. This is potential being fulfilled.
At the Tokyo Olympics, Brume’s bronze was Nigeria’s only track and field medal. At the 2022 World Championships, our two medals were Amusan’s gold and Brume’s silver.
At the 2022 Commonwealth Games, Nigeria racked up nine medals in athletics—again, none came from long-distance races. What does this tell us?
It tells us that sprints, hurdles and jumps are where we dominate. That is who we are. So, why are we abandoning our lane?
It is because marathons are easy to sell. They are PR gold. They are good for branding, tourism, and feel-good social media posts. Politicians love them.
Sponsors love them. But when the streets are cleared and the medals are handed out, what is left for Nigeria? No rising stars. No new national records. No Olympic hopefuls.
Meanwhile, real development is happening quietly elsewhere. Take Making of Champions, for instance. Their MTN CHAMPS series, now in its third season, is unearthing school-age and homegrown talent from all corners of Nigeria.
These competitions are well-organised, professionally timed, and run by people who understand what it takes to build champions from the ground up.
To their credit, from their competitions, they have produced Favour Ashe, who has the highest number of sub-10s times in the men’s 100m, Emmanuel Ojeli, who is a two-time Olympian and many more. This is what we need more of.
Other African countries have figured it out. Kenya hosts the Kip Keino Classic, part of the World Athletics Gold Tour. Morocco has hosted the Diamond League in Rabat for years. Botswana recently held the Golden Grand Prix, attracting top stars from the continent and outside.
These events do not just bring global attention, they raise the standard of local athletes. They provide exposure, competition and inspiration. They build a track culture. So, why can’t Nigeria do the same?
We can. But first, we need to fix what is broken. Our stadia are outdated. Electronic timing is still a luxury. Coaching is inconsistent. Funding is unreliable. Even our national trials often feel like an afterthought.
We have the raw talent— Favour Ofili, Udodi Onwuzurike, Favour Ashe, Kanyinsola Ajayi, Ezekiel Nathaniel, etc. But without proper infrastructure, strategy and international-standard competitions at home, we will keep wasting them.
Imagine an Abuja Grand Prix or Lagos Sprint Classic. Imagine World Athletics-certified events broadcast live on SuperSport and across the world. Imagine our young stars going toe-to-toe with global giants right here on home soil. That is how to build a track and field nation.
Let marathons exist for what they are—recreational fitness events, maybe tourism tools. But let’s stop pretending they are the key to producing global champions, because they are not.
If the National Sports Commission is serious about building the future, let them stop chasing optics and start funding facilities. Let the Athletics Federation of Nigeria return focus to where we shine—sprints, hurdles, jumps and throws.
Let state governments invest in talent programmes, not just medals for photo ops.
Sponsors have a choice: keep pouring money into forgettable races, or invest in real legacy—by backing elite meets, high-performance camps, and track development at the grassroots.
We already have pride. We already have talents. What we need now is focus and the political will. Enough with chasing shadows. Let’s double down where we actually win.
It is time to get back on track—literally. Nigeria deserves more than spectacle. We deserve sustained, strategic, sprint-fueled success.
