On Saturday I gave a talk at the Breast Cancer Care marathon training day. Half of the runners will be taking on a marathon for the first time in April. I stood there, having now done 11 of them, to share what I’ve learned along the way. I tried to tell them that everything will be OK. That I know they’re worried that they’ll fail, that it will hurt and that they won’t make it, but that I know they’ll be ok.

When you line up for the start of your first marathon, stepping over the start line is a step into the unknown. You’ve probably done a long run of 18-20 miles max and you’re worried about what will happen once you go past this point.

bcc training day

The reality is that it’s pretty much the same as the bit before this point – you keep running. You might get slower, more tired and you might walk occasionally, but you keep moving. Long runs in training are as much about preparing your mind as they are your body. With each step up in distance there’s a bit of self doubt that gets cast off and a bit more belief that you might actually be able to do this thing creeps in.

I’ve challenged myself to do lots of things in the past couple of years. I learnt to swim, I did a few triathlons and I spent 16 hours swimming, cycling and running my way 140.6 miles. This was something I hadn’t done before and I was worried about how it would go, but there wasn’t that same sense of stepping into the unknown as there’d been before my first marathon. I’d done the individual components of an iron-distance triathlon, which helped me know what was to come.

On the last day of 2014, I ran a marathon, drank three beers, found everything hysterically funny for about an hour and then went to sleep. The Flitch Way Marathon was my last long run before I attempt to run the longest run I’ve ever done.

I don’t know if my hysteria was down to the beer, exhaustion or the idea that my next race is 45 miles long, 19 miles further than I’d run that morning.

45 miles feels like a very big step into the unknown.

My friend Helen called me on Sunday to say she’s coming to the finish of the Ultra and ask what time I’ll be finishing. The truth is, I have no idea.

I did some crude maths:

Snowdonia Marathon + Dublin Marathon + sandwich stops = 10 hours.

My guesstimated time is luckily under the 11 hour cut-off time. But it’s a big step into the unknown from running for 5 hours. May aim, as always, is to just keep moving forward. Put like that it seems less scary.