“You completed a marathon?!”

“Did it hurt?!”

“How are your knees?”

“Did your nipples bleed?!”

“How are your toenails?!”

“You’re not going to do it again are you?!”

Yes. Yes I am.

In fact I would go on to complete more than one more marathon and then start to wonder, what happens after the finish line?

Many encounter “marathon blues”. It creeps up on you when you’re supposed to be resting. That big toe on your left foot isn’t going to heal itself. The calories won’t be replaced (even though this is very easy to do) and the muscles won’t repair if you don’t rest, however you are already starting to forget the pain and look towards your next race.

The feelings and emotions you felt in the lead up to race day, the complete euphoria when you completed your challenge and the satisfaction you had done your best are too much to forget so easily.

Or you could be completely bonkers? (Yet to decide if I fit this.)

So there you are, searching for your next challenge.

I wonder if I could run further?

This was a question I would ask myself daily until I signed up for the first step toward ultra marathons. Two marathons in two days. What a great idea! Yes you read the right.

Two marathons. Two days.

Back to back marathons are a real life thing, and many before and after me will go on to run multiple marathons day after day. Lots will discourage this, the damage to your body (and mind) could be permanent. However with the right frame of mind, respect for your body and a real sense of understanding towards running such distances I honestly believe if you want to do it, you can and you will.

Standing on the start line day one, in complete awe of the runners around me, envious of the streamline bodies and go faster stripes, I did waver between am I ready and take a day at a time. I very nearly fainted when I heard the man next to me quote this would be his 100th marathon to date and there goes the man who’s completed over 1000. (Pretty sure at this point I was lost.)

Wait for it. They asked me what number I was on.

I took a deep breath.

“This is my third and tomorrow will be number four.”

Note to self: Yes completely bonkers.

My statement was met with stares of disbelief but also a pat on the back that gave me a sense of camaraderie between me and the fellow runners. And then we were off.

This time the marathon was different. It was with like minded people, of all shapes and sizes on individual missions of achievement. There wasn’t hundreds of crowd members, there was a well stocked aid station and some close family and friends and the sea. This was a world away from the iconic city marathons everyone knows, but it would be the first of many marathons I would then chose to do out in the open, and ultimately later complete a transition to trail running and fulfil my love for the countryside.

Day one came and went, I ran so hard and strong and went all out to beat my previous time and came home with 30minutes off my personal best! Yippee! These thunder thighs could really move!

The afternoon and evening were met with congratulations and of course FOOD.

Note to self: Food = BIG benefit of running.

I had to refuel the calories I’d burnt over the day, and fuel ahead of tomorrows task all while trying to ignore the boob chafe, the niggling knee and the sheer worry of being able to do it all again within 24 hours of completing day one.

Day two woke with severe after work-out ache that had me hobbling (wobbling) like a womble, breakfast of chocolate pancakes and a feeling of pure horror that I may have to crawl my way round the course.

On the start line, blown about in the fresh sea air, my worries started to fade slightly, and I started to forget about the day before. The start gun went off. My body didn’t want to go anywhere. You may have heard the metaphor of “running through treacle”? This was more like being soaked in it, or rolled in it, like a big giant doughnut (Note the reference to food. I was hungry). Vaguely regretting the burger I ate the night before as part of my “re fuel” I trudged on. By mile 5, it was like the day before had been a dream.

Mile 17 onwards I struggled.

I developed a walk run strategy, I didn’t mind, I had a finish line to get to (and a hot bath). I ran/walked with fellow runners and I soon began to appreciate the sheer mental strength needed to ultra run. Your mind needs occupying, the self doubt needs squishing with every step, and you do anything you can to take your mind off the pain in your calfs.

I made it to the finish. I made it there with heavy legs, a rumbling tummy (less guilt for the burger) and a sense of relief. I had completed what I set out to achieve. I wanted a challenge. I wanted to prove that my body was capable of going further. I wanted satisfaction in the knowledge I could do it.

I had taken the first step into the unknown ultra world. In some comparisons this achievement would turn out to be small, due to the break in between races. It wasn’t small for me. It was the start of a bigger yearning to travel by foot, further.

I wanted to prove to myself, that even though I didn’t look like an elite, I still had the strength and discipline it takes to take on these distances. I was in control of my own journey, I was running my own race. I was exhausted.

The days after my 52mile journey came with aches and pains and as quickly as they came around, they left. I rested, I followed advice given by the more experienced and I recovered. I got my marathon blues, I dealt with them by signing up to smaller races and more marathons.

But one questioned remained.

Could I go further nonstop?