My Journey to Becoming an Ultra Runner: From Marathon to Ultra Marathon

Marlborough downs 33 mile

As I reflect on the past year, I wonder if the title of this article is fitting. Having completed my first ultra marathon, I suppose that makes me an ultra runner. But hey, I’m open to correction!

The Beginning of My Running Journey

While working in Normandy, I found myself juggling cooking for a client and training for my next challenge. During a sweaty, hard 12km run yesterday, I took time to reflect on my running journey over the past 18 months.

Sunday, 21st April 2024, was a milestone for me. I completed my first road marathon—something I had yearned to do for years but had been too afraid to attempt. I dedicated my life and soul to the training, following Kerry’s programme to the letter. This often meant getting up at 5 AM to run 10 miles before cooking breakfast for the shoot party. The dividends were priceless, and I achieved my goal. But where did I go from there?

The morning of the 22nd April, I overheard my husband saying he was glad it was over because life could return to normal. But no! I wanted more!

The Leap into Ultra Running

In the back of my mind, my next step was to complete an ultra marathon. But doubt crept in—could I do it? Was I good enough? I knew nothing about tackling such a challenge. I didn’t even know you could walk the hills! This feeling gnawed at me for weeks until the subject of ultra running came up at the end of run club one morning. Before I knew it, I had signed up for the Isle of Wight 100km to be completed over two days the following May. I didn’t dare mention it to my husband.

I dove into training, downloading the OS Map app and buying the Ultra Marathon handbook as bedtime reading. I scared myself silly when it suggested running 50km in the third week of training. I really didn’t have a clue what I was doing, and I knew I couldn’t do it alone. After a candid discussion with Kerry, she set me on the right track, and off I went.

Adapting to New Training

Adapting to a different type of training took some getting used to. I hardly visited the towpath where my feet had dug a groove the previous year. I discovered the joys of hill repeats—feeling my lungs about to burst and tasting metal in my throat. The more hills I tackled, the stronger I felt. But then, in November, I developed an annoying niggle in my right knee. It turned into a permanent swelling, making it hard to bend fully. The pain disappeared when I ran but returned tenfold when I stopped. I couldn’t ignore it.

After several physio appointments and six weeks of no running, I felt ready to return. But by mid-January, my confidence was wavering. The murmurs of self-doubt messed with my head. I didn’t want to just ‘do it’; I wanted to do it well, especially since the logistics and costs of this crazy adventure weren’t small change.

A Change of Plans

As luck would have it, my partner in crime for that event was also injured. Together, we decided to postpone until May 2026. But we still needed to do something. We agreed to tackle the Marlborough Downs 50km Challenge, which fell on the same weekend. Right—back on track and half the distance to cover! Although, looking at the event information, it seemed serious. Your prize for completing was a mug, not a shiny medal (small point!).

Training for the Challenge

At this point, I started my training in earnest. My OS map app became my best friend—except when the paths were non-existent. I cadged a lift when Alan (my husband) went to Cornwall on business, getting him to drop me off and pick me up at various points along coastal paths. I spent my Sunday mornings running (or walking) through beautiful countryside, avoiding roads and exploring new tracks I never knew existed. I was living the life!

My longest run was tied in with a weekend in Wales. I chose to do 35km along the Gower Coastal Path from Llangennith to Caswell—a route I had walked many times, but never all at once. I started early, but it was going to be a scorcher. The hills were steeper than I recalled, and at one point, I wanted to quit because it hurt so much. But the lack of mobile signal dictated that I had to dig deep and carry on.

At Oxwich Bay, I stopped for a cold drink (because I could!). Never has a can of cold fizzy lemonade tasted so good. Then I was off again—unconcerned about what I looked like to the sunbathers. In hindsight, I must have been a sight, having already stumbled on a downslope and landed in a gorse bush, bloodied and scratched. One foot in front of the other was all I had to focus on. That was tough, but it was good mental training for what was to come. I wasn’t racing the clock; the km splits didn’t matter. This was a different ball game, and I had to grasp it with both hands.

The Bath Beat

Several weeks later came the 17-mile Bath Beat. It almost felt like cheating—17 miles of beautiful off-road trails, run-walking with a lovely pair of ladies, chatting all the way and bumping into friends. Yes, I was tired by the end and probably overfilled on tea reminiscent of a children’s party, but I was having the time of my life.

The Day of the Event

The day of the event arrived, bringing the usual uncertainty about what to wear and the question of whether I needed another wee. I was willing the clock to chime 9 AM as I stood freezing. The route was unmarked, so I had downloaded the map. But, of course, my app didn’t sync with my watch—bloody Apple! I had a paper copy of directions in my pack, but I knew that wouldn’t work either, especially with the print so small I’d need my reading glasses!

Glancing around, I realised this was a small gathering, and everyone looked serious and fit. The thought, “Oh bloody hell,” crossed my mind. Off we went at what felt like a fast pace. I was grateful for the stiles, which allowed me to catch my breath! The first 10km felt faster than my marathon race pace, and I was swept along by the narrow path. I really wasn’t enjoying this, and I was only 10km in. The 14km cut-off time at 11 AM seemed a long way off, but the miles dragged. I could see the checkpoint in the distance along the escarpment, and I had 20 minutes to reach it. This just wasn’t going to happen. I had already resigned myself to the thought that I would be diverted to the shortened route. But, as with my training run, I just kept chugging along and made it within five minutes.

At this point, I turned to the seasoned ultra buddies and candidly told them I couldn’t keep up this pace. I asked them to leave me behind, but they assured me this had been the push to get to the checkpoint, and we could relax from now on! That was a relief, as I was still fretting about navigation, worried I’d get left behind. We had already picked up one straggler who was following us, even to the point of needing a wee stop in the bushes because he didn’t know where he was going. He actually stayed with us for the next 40km, and by the end, I had his entire life story!

Settling into the Run

I finally settled into the rhythm, though I hardly saw any other runners. I began to wonder if this was what ultra running was all about. At 25km, my IT band protested, resulting in a stabbing pain for 10 miles that just wouldn’t let up. “Oh please God, just get me through this and let me finish!” I suddenly empathised with the Little Mermaid when she lost her tail to be with her prince! Fortunately, my new friend was prattling on, serving as a welcome distraction.

Checkpoints were closely spaced out—the longest being 7km apart—so ticking them off felt like a mental win. Then I hit the 35km point—the furthest I’d run in training. I knew I could do it at this point. Mentally, I had broken it down into 5km chunks from there. My straggler friend was still chatting, but he was struggling. I found myself giving him a bit of positive mindset coaching. Every time he complained about the hills, he followed up with comments like, “I haven’t trained at all!” I turned to him, ready to give him some backchat, but instead calmly told him to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and he would be fine!

The Final Stretch

This was good; the kilometres were disappearing, and the end was in sight. Seven hours in, my bloody Apple watch announced the battery was at 10%. FFS—really??

At this point, my fear wasn’t about not finishing but about my watch not recording this momentous achievement of running further than I ever had in my life! The last 10km passed in a blur. I was euphoric but didn’t care that I might have been the last competitor to finish. An incline led to the finish, which I actually jogged up. Then came the downhill to the finish. I saw the finish line banner, still manned, and was overcome with emotion. Forget the stiff upper lip rubbish; I was about to finish my first ultra marathon. We all joined hands and crossed the line together—camaraderie at its best. My feet felt beaten up, my hamstring (or whatever it was) thanked me for stopping with one last jab of pain, and I smelled earthy, to say the least. But the feeling of euphoria was ever-present.

Lessons Learned

A few lessons were learned along the way: make your own plan, though I would have been lost without my two seasoned running teammates; never lose faith; and Apple watches are a crock of wotsit!

Needless to say, I collected my mug with pride, and it now sits on my desk. And yes, I have entered another one—roll on November, and standby Gower!

Finish of the Marlborough Downs 33mile