I remember being a fresh-faced 16-year-old on my first day of a sports course in college. In typical first day fashion, we had to complete some ice breakers. I was asked what sporting achievement I wished to complete when I was older. When I answered running a marathon, everyone in the class laughed. They probably had good reason too. I was the only kid in the class who was overweight.
I’m not one to let people’s opinions of me affect my determination to do something. Yet, it would take me 9 years before I finally completed that dream, and only 3 years later (with another 3 marathons complete) I would come up with a new dream.
I was planning on raising money for BBC Children in Need and was trying to think up something I could do. Running seemed an easy option. It would just be me I had to rely on, and it was pretty much free to do. Running a marathon was a popular choice for fundraisers. However, I am a firm believer that, if you were going to ask people for money, you better do something that’s bloody hard. I’d run 3 marathons already this year during lockdown because of boredom. So, it had to be something more. 50 Miles seemed like a nice round number, so I went ahead with that. My first ultramarathon.
I was only 10 weeks out from the event on Friday 19th November 2021. What followed was probably one of the worse preparations for an ultramarathon I could have done. My workload doubled, my diet turned into takeaway after takeaway and I managed a total of 3 runs that were longer than 10 miles, the longest only being 14 miles.
In the days before the event, I had to do an interview on the local BBC radio channel, and TV interviews were booked in during the run, including a live finish. My regret for not training intensified greatly as I tried to get to sleep the night before knowing that not finishing was not going to be a choice now. I would be getting up at 1 AM to start the run in Birmingham at 2 AM. A cocktail of nervousness and excitement kept me awake most of the night. I had only had about 2 hours of sleep when I laced my trainers up, set Strava on my phone and set off the next day.
The route was straightforward. 25 miles along the canal from Birmingham, followed by a 15-mile trail path into Coventry and then back onto the canal to take me home to the finish line.
The first half of the run felt surprisingly easy on the legs. The bigger problem was having to deal with my mild fear of the dark as I ran along an unknown path with limited exits, flanked either side by water or a mixture of trees and empty warehouses. The occasional bouncing shadow from my head torch, a flash of fox eyes or splash of a scurrying rat kept me alert and didn’t give me a chance to settle into a rhythm. Those first 5 hours felt like 20.
As the darkness ebbed away, however, new problems arose with the morning sunlight. Gone were fears of the unknown darkness, replaced by the doubt of my own ability. I’ve run 25 miles before, but everything in front of me now was unknown territory. I had no idea if my body would take what I was about to put it through. Lack of experience showed, and it wasn’t long before my choice of clothing was causing some significant pain. A change of clothes at mile 30, with the distraction of TV cameras and messages of support, made the pain manageable until it became so much that my legs simply went numb.
Mile 40 brought with it tiredness I’ve never experienced before. My legs felt like they wouldn’t hold me up if I didn’t carry on running, but my brain was screaming at me to stop. A severe lack of energy was swallowing me, and I was having to force down food I had no appetite for just to stop my head from spinning.
Those last 10 miles brought with it a challenge I probably didn’t need. I was back on the canal, back in the dark. I seemed less numb to the anxiety now though. I knew the finish line was close and no matter how much it was going to hurt; I knew I was going to finish. I felt the worries I had had for the past week drain away as I just kept putting one painful foot in front of the other.
I kept ticking the miles off until I was only 2 Miles away, where I left the canal and joined the road. The final road to the finish line. I had plenty of time to finish, or so I thought. Just as I was taking a drink break, I got a call from the soft play centre where I would be finishing. There was a session just for disabled children that night at 6:30 pm and that is where I would be finishing. BBC Midlands today had come to film the finish line, but there had been a change of plan. They wanted me to finish in 20 minutes time. 2 miles in 20 minutes! A pace I was capable of on a normal day. After 48 miles? I wasn’t so sure.
Digging deep, I put the pain to the back of my mind and tried to switch off the nearly irresistible desire to stop which was circling my thoughts. I watched the number on my phone tick closer and closer to 50 as I came to the final road crossing. Across the road, up the drive and I was there.
I ran in through the back doors to see all the children at the session cheering me over the line. The adrenaline rush, mixed with happiness from finishing, kept me standing. Sugary drinks and sweets were forced down to try and stop my head from spinning. TV interviews had to be completed. Well done’s from the people attending the session had to be politely thanked. All whilst I wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep.
In the end, I raised over £3000+ for Children in Need. I’ve worked on a project supporting disabled children for the past 5 years, which is fully funded by the charity. Myself, and those children who were there know how much difference that sort of money can make. Seeing them smiling and having fun when I finished made my first ultramarathon worth it.
I just don’t know if I would want to do another.
Get Up Go Outside 