The Running Chef

Hi there, It’s future “I ran a marathon”, Glenn, revisiting an article he was supposed to post but forgot.

10th June 2024

 “I can’t run, mate.” That’s what I told my friend, wildlife photographer William Steel when he first suggested that I try running. Years of dealing with shin splints, a deep-seated fear of boredom, and the uncomfortable truth of carrying a bit too much weight made the idea laughable. Running wasn’t just something I couldn’t do; it was something I wouldn’t do.

I didn’t run that day.

But two months later, after some personal growth through therapy and another nudge from Will, I stepped onto a treadmill. The goal? Run 3 kilometres. The reality? I barely managed 2.6 kilometres, most of which was walking with a bit of slow jogging. Still, I did it. Not only that, I left the gym eager to get back to it and run again. Something was taking hold.  

Signing Up for a Half-Marathon

Despite my rocky start, I did something bold—or perhaps foolish. I signed up for a half-marathon. That’s 21 kilometres, for anyone counting, which was about 18.4 kilometres farther than I’d ever run. Yet, saying, “I ran a marathon,” or even just finishing a race, stirred something inside me. The excitement took over, and I doubled down by registering for a shorter race first. The race in question, Colchester Stampede: a 10k run around Colchester Zoo and the surrounding countryside.

At that point, I struggled to hit 5 kilometres on a treadmill. Signing up felt absurd. Still, I committed.

My First 10k Race Experience

Fast forward two months, and I’d managed to run 10 kilometres for fun—twice. The upcoming race felt achievable. Then, in a moment of overconfidence (or insanity), I told Will that if I finished the Colchester Stampede in under 70 minutes, I’d switch from the half-marathon to a full marathon. At the time, that goal seemed impossible; my training runs were consistently over 70 minutes. In fact, they were dangerously close to Colchester Stampedes’ cut-off time of 90 minutes. 

Come race day, I somehow crossed the finish line in 61 minutes. My heart rate beat faster than it ever had, and my watch showed it stuck in the red zone. Yet, my legs powered forward as raindrops splashed the ground. It was quite a success. And yet, instead of celebrating, I felt disappointed for not breaking the one-hour mark. Still, there was no time for sulking because I’d just committed myself to running 42 kilometres.

Building Confidence and Tackling Longer Distances

When I first signed up for the half-marathon, the idea of running 10km, let alone 21.1 kilometres, felt insurmountable. But with regular training, 20 kilometres soon became my standard Sunday long run. What once felt impossible was simply a routine.

The more I ran, the simpler my training mantra became. A 10km run became a rainy Colchester Stampede unit of measurement. A half marathon was nothing more than 2 Colchester Stampedes. A marathon was just over four of these races; how hard could it be?

Yet, as confident as I felt, I’d never run longer than 25 kilometres before I ran a marathon.

The Marathon—and the Struggle

My plan to run a 30-kilometre long run before the marathon didn’t work out. I started on a run along the canal, and my legs began to feel heavy, my heart rate rapidly rising despite my pace remaining slower than usual. That planned 30km run turned into a 19km session. However, only 11km could be considered any genuine attempt to run. It felt like I’d come full circle, from running walking on a treadmill to running walking along a canal, albeit over a longer distance.

It turns out I had a chest infection.

Any sensible person would have deferred the marathon. But I’d made a promise to myself and told too many people to back out now. So, after finishing a course of antibiotics, I made my way to the starting line.

The course was anything but beginner-friendly. It was hilly, with stretches of muddy trails. The first few kilometres were tough, but my experience from the Colchester Stampede kicked in. I took the uphill’s slow and made up time on the downhills. I pushed to the 10km mark, stopping for a mini-Twix and a water bottle refill. One stampede in, and all seemed well.

But it was a 2-lap course. When I hit the halfway mark at 21 kilometres, the reality of doing another lap dawned on me. 2 Colchester Stampedes were too many; how on earth could I run another two. More running. More hills. More mud. Less energy. I didn’t want to continue. I don’t know how I did.

But I kept going.

The Final Push to the Finish Line

At some point, it stopped being about training or preparation. It became a mental battle. My legs wanted to quit, and my lungs were tired, but my mind wouldn’t let me stop. I had the perfect excuse ready—recovering from a chest infection—but I didn’t use it.

Fuelled by the allure of another mini Twix and encouraging voice notes from Will up ahead, I pushed on. I ran, I walked. I wished for it to be over, but I refused to quit. Instead, I focused on one simple goal: finish the race.

And I did.

What I Learned When I Ran a Marathon

1. Start Small: Don’t be discouraged if you can only manage a short distance initially. Every step counts. I went from 3km to 42km in under 6 months. 
2. Set Milestones: Break your training into manageable goals, like completing your first 5k or 10k. I might never have pushed for the marathon distance if I hadn’t run the Colchester Stampede, a distance way beyond my reach at the time of signing up. 
3. Listen to Your Body: Rest when needed, and don’t push through illness. If I had stopped running when prescribed antibiotics, I might have had time to recover and complete a longer training run. 
4. Mental Toughness Matters: Train your mind to push through challenges as much as your body. Your mind will give up long before your legs give out. 
5. Celebrate Progress: Acknowledge every achievement, no matter how small. A 61-minute 10k was incredibly quick for me at the time. 

It Turns Out I Can Run. I Ran A Marathon.

The journey wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was worth every step. For anyone doubting themselves, remember: the hardest part is starting. Once you’ve committed, you might just surprise yourself.

So, here’s to the next challenge—whatever that might be. For now, I’ll Savor the feeling of crossing that finish line, proof that sometimes, the impossible isn’t so far out of reach after all.

Have you run a marathon or are you training for one? Share your journey in the comments below!