My Running Journey

“Your mind will always choose comfort over growth—until you train it not to.” - David Goggins

For most of my life, running was never something I chose.

Growing up playing football, running was a requirement, often a punishment. If you didn’t perform, if the session dipped, if standards weren’t met, you ran. Flat-out efforts until you felt nauseous. Back then, there was little education about recovery, nutrition, or whether your body was actually prepared for it. Running became associated with necessity, pressure, and discomfort. It was never about enjoyment or longevity, it was about compliance.

Unsurprisingly, I learned to hate it. So when my football journey ended, so did running. Easy.

Years later, in March 2023, I had back surgery. At that point, I wasn’t looking after myself particularly well and while sporadic running wasn’t necessarily the cause of my issues, it felt like the obvious thing to remove. Completely. High impact. Risky. Something I’d never enjoyed anyway.

What changed wasn’t some dramatic revelation, it was running alongside my wife.

She decided to train for her first-ever 10k. She wasn’t a runner, but she committed fully (as she always does), followed a plan, and trusted the process. Watching that discipline towards running unfold was genuinely inspiring. We started running together. Slowly. Comfortably. Eventually, we signed up for a 15k — not racing, just moving.

Around the same time, I was also inspired by family members who had found something deeper in running: community.

Organisations like Fit Mums and Friends and Parkrun have played a huge role in my parents journey. My mum, Jayne, who was never a runner, found running through these communities. My dad, Ian, found connection through his long-standing passion for the sport. Friends and family found both fitness and belonging.

After Amy and I completed a half marathon together (along with mum, dad, Paul, and Sarah), I had a tough decision to make. Inspired, and not to be outdone by the old man (who had run his first marathon in October — sub-four hours was incredible at 67 years young), I decided to build on the training I had done, and signed up for the Clearwater Marathon. Two months to prepare.

Somewhere during the marathon training, something clicked. Not physically but mentally. The long runs were hard, but they were supposed to be. And I realised I actually valued that. Doing something difficult, consistently, without needing it to be enjoyable every step of the way.

Training for the marathon changed me more than I expected.

Those long runs weren’t just physical preparation, they were emotional. There were moments where I genuinely surprised myself, moments where I realised I was pushing further than I ever thought possible. I got emotional because it wasn’t just about distance, it was about another victory on the path to becoming a better me.

I surprised myself. And I didn’t just feel proud, I felt another evolution in my journey.

Now, running is maintenance. Two or three times a week. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to stay honest with myself. I did discover during this process that setting a goal helps me stay motivated and dedicated. The current goal: chasing a sub-20 minute 5k (my nephew, Stanley, recently achieved this, and I want to join the club!).

Running taught me that I can push my body beyond what my mind thinks I am capable of.

And that’s the point. Not just in running, but in life.