I’m seven miles into the 2023 Royal Parks half marathon, and I’ve just passed the halfway marker. I’m staring down the barrel of at least an hour’s more running, with the temperature now sitting at a sticky 25ºC; my back is sweaty, my hips are starting to ache and I’ve just finished the last few slurps of an apple-flavoured gel. A year ago, running this far would have been unimaginable. But today? I feel confident.

Getting here hasn’t been an easy road. Until relatively recently, running was something other people did – and something my body wasn’t built to do. Even when I started running during the pandemic, working my way up from a 1k dash around the local area to 5k Parkruns and the Asics London 10k, the half marathon distance still felt like one step too far. Me? Carrying my body 21km around the streets of London? By choice? No chance. 

A lot can change in a year, though – and at the start of February, I decided to enter the ballot for the Royal Parks Half. To my surprise, I got in, and by 1 March my participation was confirmed. I had just over seven months to take myself from someone who struggled to run 10k to someone who could comfortably run a half marathon. Here’s what happened next. 

In the grand scheme of things, upping your distance from 5k to 10k doesn’t require too much extra training. But a half marathon is a little different. Not only are you preparing to spend two hours on your feet, but you also need to think about fuel and how you’re going to look after your body throughout the race to avoid blisters and excessive chafing.

Daunted by the idea of getting started, I decided to sign up to Runna – an app that offers personalised training plans suited to your experience and fitness levels. The 12-week plan I chose set a mix of interval sessions, tempo runs, easy runs and long runs. Each long run went up by 2km every week and two deload weeks were scheduled every month. The furthest I would have to run before the race would be 18km.

Despite seeing the training plan displayed in front of me, I still couldn’t picture getting to a point where 21km felt possible. I found my second Asics 10k in July a real slog, so the idea of more than doubling that effort was almost too much to bear.   

The first few long runs of the plan were 6km and 8km, so they felt manageable. By week four, however, I was expected to run 12km, with a deload week afterwards providing a welcome break. It was needed. That first 12km was a mental battle – my mind kept telling me to stop and walk, and the first 5km seemed to go on forever. But once I’d shaken off that pre-run anxiety, things started to feel a little easier. I finished strong, but it was a toughie.

From there, things started to improve. Week by week, the distance increased – 12km became 14km and then 16km. It was a slog, but I started to feel the benefits, and my self-belief finally started to increase. I started to realise that training isn’t just a physical exercise – it’s a mental one. As I ran further, my perception of distance began to change. 10km, at least at an easy pace, began to feel like a reasonable distance.

When I ran 16km for the first time, I had to sit down on the floor of my local park to process what had just happened. I’d never felt so proud of myself. I was in pain, my hips and legs hurt, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Except for when I took my gel, I hadn’t stopped running for the entire distance. Showing up week after week wasn’t just making me fitter, it was increasing my mental resilience. At long last, I allowed myself to picture crossing the Royal Parks finish line for the first time.  

Following my 16km success, I was tasked with running 18km – something I did, to my surprise, quite comfortably. I did have to change my plan when it came to pace, however. When you first join the Runna app, you’re given an estimated finish time – mine sat around the 2 hours 16 minute mark. By following the training plan (including the paces set out for you during these runs), the idea is that you’ll be able to meet or exceed this come race day.

However, I regularly found the pace the app wanted me to maintain too intense. Instead of working towards Runna’s expected time goal, I decided that crossing the line would be reward enough, and that change in attitude afforded me more wiggle room for enjoying – rather than punishing – myself during training.

My plan tasked me to run 18km twice – with a deload week in between to provide a breather. The second 18km felt a little harder than the first, mainly because I started to get race day fear. To combat the mind noodles, I pushed myself to run 1km further – coming in at just over 19km in total. If you ever find yourself doubting your ability to do something, I’d recommend giving this technique a go: by showing myself that I could run an extra 1km, I had a ready-made example of me overcoming self-imposed barriers.

From there, all that was left was to taper my distance and get ready for race day. I felt confident, but with three weeks still to go until the day itself, I started to worry my body would forget how to run such a big distance. It’s a common worry known among long-distance runners as ‘maranoia’. I found that you don’t have to run the whole 26.2 miles to experience it; training hard for any distance can result in panic near to the day. 

I made it through the taper period with a couple of medium runs (10km and 8km) and a (perhaps poorly timed) hiking trip in the Alps, but my final training run before race day was an absolute shambles. 

I had 10km on the plan, which I wanted to run at a reasonable ‘race’ pace, but by 8km my chest was burning and my legs were sore. I stomped back home in the worst mood, and tried to shake off the self-doubt that was threatening to overpower my rational thoughts. In the end, I had to go out for a 3km run on the Friday before my race on the Sunday to give myself a little boost, and it worked.

Apart from those last few runs, my preparation for race day largely consisted of eating lots of carbs (a job I was happy to shoulder) and resting as much as possible. I stayed active with some walks and at-home stretching, but apart from that, I decided to give my legs as much downtime as I could. On the day before the race, my jitters made sitting still impossible, so I set to work cleaning my flat from top to bottom. It helped to take my mind off things.

The night before, I made sure to lay out my kit, shoes, gels and any other bits I knew I wanted to take with me the following day. An early night was the last ‘to-do’ on my list, so by 10pm I switched off the lights and wished for a restful sleep. 

To my surprise I managed to sleep through the night, waking up only to the sound of my alarm the following day. I scraped back my hair into two Dutch plaits, donned my kit and attached my number to my top before heading out the door to the start line.

By this point, I was starting to feel more excited than nervous. There’s something about being surrounded by other people all heading towards the same goal that makes you feel on top of the world, and I was almost buzzing with energy by the time I reached the start line. As I ran down that first straight, my eyes filled with tears (cheesy, I know).

What followed was a blur of excitement, pain, a little bit of walking and lots of cheers from the crowd. Before I knew it, I had crossed the finish. I burst into tears as soon as I stepped over the line and was pulled into an embrace by a lovely fellow runner. You don’t realise how much you want something until you finally achieve it, but knowing that all my hard work over the last three months had paid off felt truly incredible.

After spending the day with my family, I found myself dreaming of my next challenge. There’s something truly addictive about working towards something that’s solely yours – you’re not dependent on a friend, work situation or money to make it happen. Injuries and unfortunate circumstances aside, once you’ve entered a race the only thing standing between you and the finish line is the work you put in – and there’s nothing quite like it. 

Images: Lauren Geall