We’ve all been there. You didn’t get picked in the lottery. Or maybe you saw everyone else signing up, and suddenly you got FOMO. Maybe the race quietly sold out over a few days, nothing dramatic, no Ticketmaster-style scramble, just a gradual closing of the gates while you were still humming and hawing. Now it’s gone, and you’re left empty handed.
And then, like a beacon of hope, someone pops up: “Can’t do the race anymore, selling my number.” Bingo. You message. You send the Revolut. You get the bib.
But here’s the thing: what you’ve just done, while common, is a bit of a dodgy handshake in the car park of the running world. And for all the harmless swapping that goes on, there’s a murky side that a lot of runners don’t talk about, because most of us are too busy foam rolling and pretending we understand our training zones.
Why People Do It (And Why It Sort Of Makes Sense)
Let’s not pretend there aren’t some very logical reasons this happens. You enter a race, you train for it, and then bam, injury, work, your cousin’s wedding in Mayo. You can’t do it. Refund? Not a hope. Transfer option? Some races offer it, many don’t. So instead of binning your €65 race entry, you sell the bib to someone keen. They’re happy, you’re slightly less broke. Everyone wins, right?
From the buyer’s side, it’s a lifeline. That marathon you missed out on? Suddenly you’re in. And sometimes you even get it at a discount, especially if the seller’s panicking the night before. You get the buzz of race day, the medal, the banana, the mild chafing. Sorted.
But Here’s Where It Gets Messy
Let’s say you’re running under someone else’s name. Harmless enough until you faint at mile 20, or you’re pulled out with dehydration, or you finish and can’t remember your own postcode. The race organiser pulls up the emergency contact for “Stephen from Carlow” while you’re very much “Laura from Clare.” Not ideal.
More seriously, from a safety and liability standpoint, if something goes wrong, you’re not covered. Organisers can’t be held responsible for injuries to someone who wasn’t even officially in the race. It’s the equivalent of driving someone else’s car without telling the insurance company. Might never be a problem, until it is.
And then there’s the scam factor. Facebook groups and Twitter threads might look like safe havens for bib-swapping, but it’s the Wild West. You send €70 to a stranger, they vanish. The bib never arrives. You’ve now paid to not run a race. Which, fair enough, sounds like the dream on some days, but not when you’re out the guts of a week's grocery shop.
Irish Running Groups Know the Craic
Plenty of Irish running Facebook groups have clamped down on this. No bib buying, no bib selling, no questions asked. Why? Because it’s become too messy. Too many people selling non-existent entries. Too many awkward situations at the start line where someone turns up wearing someone else’s name tag. It’s not a school sports day, lads. There are logistics.
Some races are getting wise and offering official transfer windows, or at least allowing you to defer your entry to next year. But until that becomes the norm, the temptation to offload a bib (or sneak into a sold-out race) will keep ticking along like a Garmin with no GPS signal.
Final Thoughts: Just Don’t Do It
Look, we get it. You missed out on a race. You want in. Or maybe you’re injured and just trying to claw back your entry fee. But buying or selling race bibs on the sly? It's not worth the hassle or the risk.
The moment you pin on someone else’s number, you’re dodging the very systems put in place to keep people safe. If something goes wrong and let’s face it, distance running isn’t exactly knitting, emergency crews are working off the wrong information. You’re not covered, you’re not counted, and you’re not supposed to be there.
It’s not just about rules or insurance or identity mix-ups. It’s about not being that gobshite who causes trouble and makes things harder for everyone else.
So do the right thing. If a race doesn’t offer transfers or deferrals, give it a miss this year. Support your mates, go for a long run somewhere else, or just spend the morning in bed judging the course photos. There’ll always be another race.
Your PB can wait. Your dignity shouldn’t.