On the 1st June 2022 I am joining 6 other amazing runners to run the entire length of the UK, from Lands End to John O’Groats in just 35 days. The route totals around 1015 miles (or 1,634km if you’re a man and so want to make it seem longer and harder than it actually is) with 70,000ft of ascent - that’s twice up Everest, Nim’s fans.

The route includes some of the most brutal and epic trails in the UK including the SWCP, The West Highland Way and parts of Offas Dyke. It’s 50% trail and 50% road and as far as we know, has never been done before – certainly not in this way. We will be running for 30 days and have 5 rest days – one per week, averaging around 34 miles a day. Some days will be longer, some will be shorter. None will be easy. And I have never been more excited about anything. This is bucket list. This is what I started running for.

Day 1 will involve a very special section of the South West Coast Path - the section I DNF’d on at the Arc…..

This is a test run for the Rat Race Run Britannia event – now sold out for 2023 and 2024. Sold out before we have even taken the first steps on the Test Pilot. It’s the stuff of legend – a feather in the cap of any ultrarunner and something I have ALWAYS wanted to do. Typically LEJOG is run fast, along the traditional route which comes in at 874 miles. That route takes in some of the UK’s most fun dual carriageways, A-roads and Little Chefs. Fuck that. It sounds fucking awful. My friend Dan holds the men’s record on that course coming in at 9 days, 21 hours, 14 mins and 2 seconds. My other friend Carla holds the women’s record coming in at 12 days, 30 minutes and 14 seconds. We will not be doing it that fast. We will not be breaking any records. But we will be completing a world first and showing that if you really want to achieve something epic, if you really want to do something out of this world, it is there for you. You can do it. And that is super, super special in itself.

This trip has been years in the making – mainly because of the C word. Originally set for June 2020 then obviously canned as we were all locked indoors, we were then going to try again in September 2020. As the date started to approach we realised take we couldn’t take the gamble on lockdowns being reintroduced in Scotland – which they were after we deferred it again. Can you imagine? 500 miles in and then not allowed to go any further? That was a decision well made. Instead, myself and a few others went out on a three-week fact-finding trip, visited some of the key points on route, did some running and took some nice pictures – some of which you can see here, but it always sort of seemed like Run Britannia might never happen. Now it is happening. In a week. In a week I will set out to run the entire length of the UK. Holy fucking shit.

The original line up of runners came in at 18 – we now only have 7 including me. People willing to take 35 days away from their families and jobs to run 1000 miles on a route nobody has done before. These are not elite athletes, they are normal people – some with more experience than others, who are giving something super scary a go. Fucking legends, all of them. We met up a month ago for a chat and to make sure nobody was a psychopath -or worse a triathlete - and had the best time trotting about on the Yorkshire Three Peaks and talking about how many bags of crisps we were going to eat. We also met James, our Project Manager and set out some rules that will definitely be broken (we start running at 8am everyday without fail) and some rules that will definitely be enforced (we stop at every ice cream shop on the way). I don’t know why I’m surprised that everyone got on so well – it takes a special type of person to do this type of thing. I can’t see me wanting to kill any of them which is a good start. I don’t know how they feel about me.

Realistic weather on the section from Tintagel in 2020…..

My new best running friends are Lorna, Rachel, Amanda, Ross, Martyn and Joe. James will be joining us on a few legs as well, although looking at his parkrace times I am slightly worried about keeping up with him. Based on those he could probably set a new world record time himself. We will be supported by two vehicles and 4 crew and will spend the nights in a mix of hostels, bnb’s hotels and (vomit emoji) campsites – all pre booked and pretty much en-route. None of these runners are elite level endurance monsters. None of them have ever done anything like this before. One of them only has one and a half glutes (more on that story as we progress). All of them are ordinary people prepared for an extraordinary adventure. Their bravery in even getting to the start line should not be underestimated. They are utterly inspiring, and I hope they know that.

The mileage breakdowns for the for the week are, on the face of it, horrendous. Week one is actually 7 days as opposed to 6, running from Lands End to Bristol mainly along the South West Coast Path. Totalling 245 miles it’s not only the longest weekly mileage we’ll, do but the hilliest. Week two comes in at 217 miles, week three at 172 miles, week four at 183 miles and then just the 196 miles for the last week. I think the most I have ever run in a week is 130 miles. The first week is almost double that. Fuck.

This is not just road running. This is a mix of road and trail. It goes across some of the most incredibly brutal landscapes in the UK. Anyone that’s spent more than 3 hours on Exmoor in June will know exactly what I am talking about. They train the fucking SAS there. Then there’s the weather. Actually, let’s not talk about the weather. 16 years of going to Glastonbury Festival have taught me that it most certainly is not always sunny in June. And when it is, it’s too sunny. Very British problems.

I don’t know how the others are feeling about taking this on. We have a very banterful whatsapp group (main topics poo and food), but I really don’t know how they are feeling. I only know how I am feeling and I wanted to write this so I had a record of it. And I wanted to write this to try and inspire other people to do something spectacular. I have been waiting for the opportunity to do LEJOG for most of my running life – it’s a really big deal to me. I want to complete it. I want to run the whole thing. I want to show people that the impossible is actually possible. I want to show people it’s OK to be a little bit broken and that your past does not define you. I want to show people what the possibilities are.

Devils Staircase, Glencoe - we’ll be here in the final week.

The last ten months have probably been the most important in my life. I have finally got sober. I have invested a lot of time and effort in getting to the bottom of what has really been going on with me for the past 25 years. I won’t lie – it’s been fucking hard work, hideously painful – the most painful thing I have ever done. I have let go of things and people I have loved. I ‘ve woken up, but I’m not out of the woods yet. I know I will always be in the woods a bit. I do like the trees.

The fundamental change, the thing I have noticed the most – the thing that has only become really apparent in the last few months is that I actually want to be me. I don’t want to be anyone else anymore. I don’t want to have anyone else’s life – I like mine, even when its horribly messy and hard to understand. And that’s a revelation. A massive fucking revelation.

For the first time I like myself a bit. Not loads, but a bit. I am grateful for things – small things like the peace lily that sits next to my bed and the way the light comes into my kitchen and big things like the unconditional love and joy my dog brings me and the fact I can run whenever I want to. I do not rake over the past and flagellate myself for things I have said or done. I look at the past carefully and unpick the bits I don’t understand. I listen to stories I have told myself in the past, really horrible stories, learn as much as I can from them and then set about writing new ones – all whilst writing the old one. The book is taking forever. Fucking book.

I feel like I have some actual self-respect. I respect my time, I respect my decisions and I respect my boundaries. I choose to be alone rather than lament being alone. Instead of trying to drown out or distract myself from my own special brand of self-loathing, I am listening to what I am telling myself and taking those messages to bits – separating the fact from the fiction, however hard that might be. There’s a lot more fiction than fact. I am a master storyteller.

This does not mean I walk around on sunlit clouds singing Karen Carpenter songs. I cry a lot, I get upset a lot, but I deal with it now instead of trying to stop it or hide it. I grieve the old me sometimes. Then I remember, a lot of that was not really me. It was me trying to be someone else. I am getting better. I still have days where being alive hurts, but they are so much less frequent. And they are dealt with so much better. I am proud of myself. I wish I knew 20 years ago what I know now. But then I wouldn’t be me, so swings and roundabouts. I think the pain of the past plays a role in Run Brit. Any pain mental of physical I experience on this event can never be as bad as the pain I went through this time last year. I got through that pain, I can get through this pain. I am enough.

In November last year I relaunched my business. I took on a few coaching clients and slowly built up a roster of incredible people, all training to run amazing races, from their first trail marathon to their first 100 miler. Every single one of those clients has inspired and motivated me every single day since. They have given me razor sharp focus. They are honestly astonishing. Some of them facing such adversity yet still sticking with it and achieving amazing things – personal bests and longest distances. All their work. Not my work, THEIRS. They put the fucking work in, and it is glorious to see and it’s glorious to even be a tiny part of it. I’ve done workshops with people who have completely lost their love of running and gone on to see them signing up for and completing some incredible races. I have found what I am good at and what I love doing. I always knew I loved helping people – it’s what I did when I was doing the test pilot trips and crewing the bucket list races. I loved it. I am, once again, truly grateful for that.

But I am worried about something. I mean of course I’m worried about load of things – getting injured, missing my dog, not being able to run 35 plus miles a day, people not liking me. Morrisons not having any of those 69p donuts – all the usual stuff. I am most worried about being me and what that means now my wall has gone.

Duncansby Stacks - about 4 miles from the JOG.

I know this trip is going to be super hard. I know there will be days where I think I can’t do it. But as I sit here writing this, I also know I can do it - barring any medical emergencies, I plan on getting every step of this event walked or run. And if I don’t manage that, it is also OK. I know all this as I sit here, but I also know that when I am in a dark place, telling myself to stop or that I can’t or that I am not enough, those voices are absolutely real, and that message – you’re a piece of shit - is absolute fact. How do I cope if I don’t manage to do all of it? How do I cope with that now as opposed to how I coped with that then? Then I would have starved myself and drunk 2 bottles of rose to stop the voices and “make it go away”.

Now I cope with it by recognising it. And sometimes that means tears and a sit down. I’m worried that getting upset around people or needing time on my own will point to me being mentally unwell or unable to cope – that is not the case. Showing vulnerability is not a sign of weakness, yet society still tells us it is. When you get upset it means something is wrong. What if it means something is actually right? Recognising the triggers, feeling the feelings and being OK to feel them is what I have learnt to do to help myself. Just be me, not hide it, not pretend it’s OK – just be me. If that involves having conversations with virtual strangers whilst having a good cry then that’s OK too. There is no shame in that.

One of the most powerful things I have learnt through all this is that other people’s opinions of me are actually are none of my business. They belong to other people, not me. I just have to do what I need to do to get through those moments. And they are moments. They are moments that can turn into months or years if you let them but if you have the tools to stop them in their tracks, give those thoughts the time and air they need to dissipate, they can just be moments. Anyone following me on this journey should definitely be ready for some tears. There will be some. There will also be lots of talking about poo, eating donuts and laughing at Lorna. Even writing all this down has made me feel less worried about it. And that is quite magical.

To me, Run Britannia is the ultimate test of all the work that I have done in the last 10 months. Can I do it without believing I can’t in those moments? Will I allow the parts of me that have tried to destroy me in the past to get a grip? Which story will I choose to believe when I am right at the coalface? I was ill for so long that I didn’t know what it was to be well. Now I do know. And I am so fucking grateful to be well. I am proud to be well.

So this is a test in more ways than one. I am super lucky to have my crew around me – Lorna will be there with me – my no-nonsense wing woman. I have my best friend Julius back home looking after the Pie Dog (and hopefully bringing her to see me halfway) and at the end of the phone when I need a talking to, and I have my family – briefed to answer calls at funny times during the day to tell me things that make me laugh. I have the other legends on the trip - I know that this adventure will forge friendships for life – how can it not? I am there to help them as much as I am there to help myself. I will do anything I can for them should they need a shoulder – they know that. As I said, none of them are triathletes, so unless I discover an M Dot tattoo on one of them, they can cry at me all they like. We will get through it together.

Aim of the game? Re-create this picture on the 6th July 2022.

Most importantly I have me. The me that likes me, that acts like a friend not an enemy, the me that understands where this shit comes from, the me that not only understands it, but that has enough self-respect to deal with it properly, not drown it or ignore it, but respectfully tell it to pipe down while I go through the dodgy evidence presented by my brain that tells me I am not enough. I am enough.

And to you reading this. If you have ever wanted to do something extraordinary, if you doubt yourself or think “I’ll do it next year” then take a bit of advice from me. Do it now. Book it in and get the work done. Turn up as the person you want to be at the start of that event every single day leading up to it, and if some days you can’t be that person that’s OK as well. Accept it, allow it to dissipate and crack on. A nap and a dog cuddle sometimes helps too. Do not ignore it. If anyone had told me 5 years ago that I would be about the start and adventure like this, I would have laughed at them. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be part of it. I can’t believe how proud I am to be part of it. So on we go.

You can follow our progress via trackers on the Rat Race Facebook page and via my Instagram account @ab_runs

Now let’s crack the fuck on, shall we?