02/09/2026
Sometimes The Story Isn't The Finish Line
Last Saturday, I set off on the Leeds & Liverpool Canal Race. Around 130 miles of unbroken towpath, from the Liverpool docks to Office Lock in Leeds. No hills to break the rhythm, just the same ground, the same muscles, mile after mile, for up to 40 hours straight.
I knew early on it wasn't going to be a straightforward day. My stomach shut the door on food almost from the start, and if you've ever raced an ultra, you know exactly what that means - you can have the strongest legs in the field, but without fuel, the clock is already ticking.
I kept going anyway. Adapted, problem-solved, told myself to take it mile by mile rather than think about the many miles still standing between me and Leeds.
103 miles later, sitting inside the top 10, I made the call to stop.
For a long time I'd have called it a failure. But the more of these races I do, the more I realise the finish line was never really the whole point - it's just the easiest part of the story. The real story is the one which happens when things stop going to plan and you find out what you do next.
103 miles, on an empty stomach, on tired legs, is still further than most people will ever run in their life. That's not nothing. That's not a story I need to be embarrassed about.
So here's to the miles run and shared. Recovery starts now — and I'll be back on a start line soon, wiser and hungrier than before.
A big shout out to my number one support crew, pushing me forwards for longer. Thank you.
Onwards. 🧡
