North Korea is one of the world’s most isolated nations, with travel strictly controlled by the state. Its borders were shut in early 2020 and largely remained closed to ordinary tourists through 2024. After 5 years, the return of the Pyongyang International Marathon on April 6, 2025, was remarkable. Held on the anniversary of founding leader Kim Il-sung’s birthday, the race brought about 200 foreign runners from over 40 countries into the capital. All had booked official tour packages, as no one could enter the country independently. In fact, Koryo Tours, a Beijing‐based agency, is the marathon’s exclusive international partner, handling every aspect of registration and travel. The event took place in a reclusive country that has largely closed its borders since the pandemic. For a few days, however, Pyongyang opened a window to the world, where the foreign visitors ran through its streets under the watchful eyes of guides and security.
North Korea: A Nation Set Apart
Since its creation in the aftermath of World War II and the Korean War, North Korea has developed into a hermit kingdom under the sole rule of the Kim dynasty. Currently led by Kim Jong-un, the third in the family line, the state maintains total control over its people, economy, media, and external interactions. North Korea’s citizens are denied internet access, foreign travel, and uncensored information from abroad. Any conflict or protest is not tolerated, and entire families, along with future generations, can be punished for the actions of one member.
This isolation only deepened during the COVID-19 pandemic. In early 2020, North Korea sealed its borders completely, more strictly than almost any other country. Foreign embassies shut down, diplomats were evacuated, and tourism that was already restricted came to a full stop. For nearly four years, no outsiders entered unless under highly specific, state-monitored conditions.
History and Political Symbolism of the Marathon
North Korea has always used sports not just for fitness or competition, but as tools of nationalism and state pride. International achievements in events like the Olympics or Asian Games are celebrated as victories of the regime itself.
The Pyongyang Marathon has deep roots in North Korea’s politics and propaganda. Founded in the early 1980s, the marathon was held for the first time in 1981 for men, and the women's event was held in 1984. It is officially called the Mangyongdae Prize International Marathon, named after Kim Il-sung’s birthplace. Kim Il-sung was the founder and first supreme leader of North Korea. This event has been held every spring, usually in April, to coincide with the “Day of the Sun” celebrations around Kim Il-sung’s birthday. From the start, the race served a dual purpose: a legitimate athletic contest and a showcase for the regime’s narrative. North Korean media always emphasise patriotic themes; for example, foreign runners are shown being warmly welcomed and taking part in national festivities, to suggest North Korea is friendly and “normal.” International observers note that Pyongyang’s leaders treat the marathon as a carefully crafted instrument of soft power. In a country more often associated with missile tests, the marathon is a rare scene of “normalcy and international camaraderie,” allowing Pyongyang to project a friendlier image through sport.
In practice, the race highlights national pride. Athletes run past giant portraits of the Kim family and banners celebrating the state. Victorious North Korean runners and organizing officials earn front-page coverage as proof of the country’s vitality. The Arch of Triumph, a memorable 1982 monument to the 1945 liberation, and other grand monuments are revealed for photos. As one commentator put it, the event “showcases a friendly face” of the regime, with images of smiling foreigners running by Pyongyang’s grand monuments.
The 2025 Race: Return After Six Years
After a six-year hiatus, the 2025 Pyongyang Marathon resumed on April 6, inviting international runners to participate once again. The last race had been in 2019; all 2020–2024 editions were cancelled as North Korea sealed its borders for COVID-19 containment. Foreigners were completely barred until very recently, apart from small escorted tours of limited areas. When April 2025 came, the government partially lifted restrictions to allow the marathon to proceed, but only under strict conditions. Every foreign runner arrived on an organised six-day tour, flying via Beijing on an Air Koryo flight. Simon Cockerell of Koryo Tours said that “about 200 foreigners arrived on Friday and Saturday” for the race. In short, participation was tightly controlled: North Korea admitted only the runners it had pre-approved, all compulsorily registered through Koryo Tours.
Runners came from Europe, Asia, and elsewhere, with notable absences from citizens of the United States, South Korea, and Malaysia who were barred, reflecting ongoing political tensions. In total, around 500 people participated across all categories, a mix of local athletes and foreign amateurs. Organisers expected roughly 180–200 overseas runners, and in the end, everyone participated. A total of 950 foreigners had run in 2019, versus only about 200 in 2025, which reflects both the long closure and careful selection by Pyongyang.
The 31st Pyongyang Marathon included full, half, 10 km, and 5 km races for both men and women. In the men’s full marathon, Pak Kum Dong of North Korea finished first, while Jon Su Gyong, also from North Korea, won the women’s race. Large crowds of state-approved spectators, children, workers, and officials were seen at the stadium and key street points to greet the athletes.
Race Course and Landmarks
The marathon route passed under Pyongyang’s famous Arch of Triumph on city streets. The official course started and finished at the massive Kim Il Sung Stadium, where over 50,000 North Korean spectators were reported to watch. From the stadium, runners headed out through central Pyongyang, past government buildings and squares. They ran directly beneath the Arch of Triumph and alongside fountains and boulevards lined with cheering citizens. For visitors, it is a surreal tour through a city few ever get to see.
The route then turned north toward the outskirts of the city. Runners passed quieter streets with sparse traffic, then looped back into the city. Along the return leg, they saw more grand monuments and eventually re-entered the stadium for the finish. According to the marathon’s website, the tour would let runners “take in many of the iconic buildings, monuments and streets of Pyongyang” during the race. In practice, foreign participants noted that the wide, clean streets and monuments made the city feel almost like a “festival” setting, even as every step was monitored.
Sport as Soft Power
Observers emphasize that this marathon is as much a political event as an athletic one. Analysts note that the event has long been “a carefully crafted instrument of soft power” for the regime. Why did North Korea choose now to resume the marathon? The answer likely lies in soft power, a term used to describe influence through culture, attraction, and diplomacy rather than force. The marathon allowed Pyongyang to project an image of stability, hospitality, and normalcy. It was an opportunity to counter the narrative of isolation with one of selective engagement.
However, this openness remains tightly managed. Foreigners could run through the city, but they could not explore it freely. Their cameras were welcome, but only pointed in approved directions. Even so, moments of authenticity shone through brief exchanges of nods or smiles with local spectators.
The Foreign Experience: A Glimpse Inside
For foreign participants, the Pyongyang Marathon offers more than just a chance to run; it provides a rare, tightly controlled glimpse into the inner workings of one of the world’s most secretive societies. From the moment international runners arrive, they are under close surveillance, accompanied at all times by government-assigned guides. Their phones are checked, SIM cards are confiscated, and internet access is nonexistent. Yet within these limitations, runners often find unexpected moments of connection.
Indian participant Vishnu Saha, known online as The Wandering Maniac, described his 2025 experience as surreal, but strangely warm. In his words, entering North Korea felt like stepping onto an old movie set with pristine roads, vintage cars, and towering monuments. But on race day, the cheer of schoolchildren, high-fives from curious locals, and smiling bystanders on the route created brief but genuine interactions. The Koryo tour’s promise of a “rare chance to run the streets” of Pyongyang proved literally true; he did jog past the same city blocks that most tourists never see. In conversation after the race, he said that for a few hours, the marathon gave him a peek at everyday life: the honking cars and bakeries by the route, the friendly nods of unemployed veterans stationed as marshals.
In conclusion, the 2025 Pyongyang Marathon gave runners a rare chance to experience life inside North Korea, even if only for a short time. For people like Vishnu Saha from India, it was a unique mix of strict rules and unexpected human moments. Though interactions with locals are limited and always observed, the subtle gestures, like simply a nod, a wave, or a clapping child, revealed a human side of North Korea that is rarely captured in media portrayals.