Signing Up for an Ultra Marathon

So I'd done my first trail run. I'd stood in a muddy field in Henley eating wood-fired pizza thinking I could probably do an ultra marathon. An Ultra marathon basically being anything longer than a standard marathon. So instead of starting small and sensible, I went and signed up for a hilly 50k on the South Downs and a a 100k on the Jurassic Coast. That is correct - I had lost my marbles. ‘Do or do not, there is no try’ famously said by Yoda.

Why a Hilly Ultra? (Genuinely a Good Question)

Here's the absolute truth. I REALLY hate hills. Always have. On a bike, running, it doesn't matter — hills are not my friend. In fact, I've long held the view that hills and mountains were designed for exactly one purpose. To get a lift to the top and snowboard back down. That's it. That's their entire function. So why on earth did I sign up for one of the hilliest ultras I could find, when I could have just done one along The Thames, which is only up the road?

Because that was exactly the point. If I was going to do this, I wanted to really push myself out of my comfort zone. I didn't want to pick the easy option. I wanted to tackle the thing I find hardest and come out the other side having conquered it. Hills have always been my weakness — and this felt like the right time to go to war with them. I was going to do them well so I wouldn’t have to do them again!

The Training Plan — and Then Life Happened

I downloaded a training plan from Marathon Handbook, the same resource I'd used when preparing for my first Half Ironman in Taupo — which, if you've read the book, you'll know was the race that inspired Stronger Every Mile. It had served me well before, so I trusted it. And then everything went sideways.

First, I got flu, which involved a full week in bed, completely wiped out. Then, just as I was getting back on my feet, I developed thyroiditis. Shortness of breath, heart palpitations, a swollen thyroid. Not ideal when you're supposed to be building your running base. That took me out for another chunk of time.

Then came two ski holidays — which sounds wonderful, and they were, but snowboarding absolutely destroys your legs. So by the time I was supposed to be well into my training block, my legs were simultaneously undertrained and utterly exhausted. Not the ideal combination to tackle my first 50k.

The Terminator 20k: A Brutal but Important Benchmark

When a friend from the tri club invited me to join him at a hilly 20k trail run in the Vale of Pewsey, I genuinely didn't know if I was in any shape to do it. The description sounded brutal — big ascents, steep descents, proper trail running terrain. But with the South Downs looming, I figured it would at least tell me where I stood.

My daughter came to spectate, along with Lola, our puppy — moral support of the very best kind. The weather was overcast, which turned out to be absolutely perfect for running. I paced myself sensibly, soaked up some genuinely stunning views and had a good laugh with the marshals along the way. I hydrated well, nailed my nutrition and finished the event absolutely buzzing. Cherished the free jelly baby offered to me by a friendly spectator, its the little things that mean the most. It filled me with confidence. Tired, yes — but the good kind of tired.

It was exactly what I needed. A reality check that actually came back positive. Yes, I was about two months behind on my training plan. But rather than feeling defeated by that, finishing The Terminator and feeling in great shape gave me the determination to crack on. The 50k was still doable. I just needed to get my head down and get to work.

Joining the Gym — Starting from Scratch

One thing I knew I needed was strength. Trail ultras aren't just about running fitness — your whole body takes a battering. Hills, uneven terrain, the sheer duration of it all. I needed to be stronger.

The problem? I had absolutely no idea where to start in a gym. The equipment, the exercises, what to prioritise — it was completely overwhelming. So I did the only sensible thing. I signed up to the local gym and booked a personal trainer for my first two sessions.

I'll be honest, it's a luxury. It's not cheap. But I knew that without some guidance I'd either wander around aimlessly or avoid going altogether. A couple of sessions to get me started, learn what to do, and then I'd be confident enough to take it from there on my own.

My PT was brilliant — and it turned out I was her first Ironman athlete. She was genuinely excited about that. Until she saw my press ups and sit ups, at which point she very quickly realised we'd be starting from absolute scratch. Everything felt hard. Everything felt impossible. We laughed a lot.

I'll be honest though — I didn't enjoy the gym. I never have. Exercising for the sake of exercising, with no event, no route, no adventure attached to it, has never really been my thing. I need a purpose, a destination, something to aim at. The gym, by its very nature, doesn't give you that. You just lift things and put them down again.

But I knew it mattered. When I was preparing for the Ironman, strength training had been introduced as part of the process and I'd seen firsthand how much it contributed. I understood the importance of it, even if I didn't love it. And once I started going regularly, something shifted. I began to notice progress — the weights going up, movements that had felt impossible starting to feel manageable. There's something genuinely rewarding about that, even if the environment isn't your natural habitat. I could feel myself getting stronger, and I knew that strength would count for something out on those hills.

So I kept showing up. Twice a week, with a 1,000 metre recovery swim in the pool afterwards — nothing fast, no pressure, just a relaxed splash around that I genuinely loved. A complete contrast to the gym. It was calm, quiet, almost meditative - back doing what I love. It became one of my favourite parts of the week.

As the runs got longer and the training load increased, I dropped back to one gym and swim session a week — which, as it turned out, was exactly what the training plan recommended anyway.

Where Things Stood Heading into the South Downs

So there I was. Two months behind on my training plan. Recovering from flu and thyroiditis. Legs that had been battered by two snowboarding trips. And yet — somehow — feeling more determined than ever.

The Terminator had given me confidence. The gym sessions were making me stronger, slowly but surely. The recovery swims were keeping me sane. I wasn't where I'd planned to be, but I was moving in the right direction.

The South Downs 50k was on the horizon. The hills were waiting.

Next up: race day on the South Downs — what actually happened.