I discovered running relatively late in life. I was 38 years old with two tiny children and a full-time job on BBC News. Exercise was not my thing. I’d tried jogging around the local park in my early thirties, but I couldn’t go more than a mile without feeling that my lungs were exploding. I gave up. But one day in 2006, I received an email that changed my life. The race organiser and former Olympic distance runner Sir Brendan Foster was inviting me to take part in his Great North Run. Running 13.1 miles seemed a ridiculous idea for someone who could barely jog to the park without stopping. But I was heading back on screen soon and wanted to lose some weight.
So I signed up. I found a beginner’s training plan and stuck to it doggedly. To my surprise, I started to enjoy it. I liked the structure and the sense of achievement. I also began to feel stronger. After three months of training, I crossed the finish line in 2:06 to the roar of a crowd and my first medal.
Five years later, after another baby and a shot of courage, I stepped up to the marathon. At the age of 42, I was sure I was getting too old to be putting my body through 26.2 miles. The training was tough. A diary I kept is filled with pages about sore muscles, aching feet and significant doses of fear and self-doubt.
On the day itself, in April 2011, I almost didn’t make it. I overheated and blacked out for 20 minutes just two miles from the finish. But after being revived by the St John Ambulance volunteers – first with oxygen, then with lots of sugary tea – I trotted over the London Marathon finish line for the first time, in 6:22.
Twelve years later, I’m faster and fitter than I’ve ever been. With almost 20 marathons under my belt and ultras across deserts and mountains ticked off, I wonder why I didn’t take to running in my youth. It’s not just the physical strength I’ve gained, it’s the mental fortitude, too. Running has given me a level of confidence I lacked in my twenties and thirties. I’ve been broadcasting to millions of people for more than 20 years. But I never meant to end up on television, preferring to work as a journalist behind the scenes. When the spotlight found me, it took me a long time to feel comfortable in its glare.
I think it’s no coincidence I only got into my stride in my mid-forties. I’d ticked a few marathons off by then and, despite my advancing age, I was surprised to find I was getting faster. It felt incredibly empowering. Running gave me a new identity.
The marathon-training mentality started to slip into other parts of my life, too. Big live broadcasts became less daunting. Long-distance running had taught me that preparation was key. If I did the work, I knew I’d get the results. In the hours before going on air, whether it’s an election night or a royal event, I go quiet, zone in, drink an espresso and eat carb-laden snacks, just as I do as I head to a marathon start line. Election nights are fuelled with Haribos; if they can keep me going on a 50-mile ultra, they can get me through a marathon election broadcast.
Most of all, running has taught me I’m capable of more than I thought. At 55, my body is stronger than I ever imagined. Rather than winding down in middle age, I’m ramping up, lifting heavy weights and chasing PBs. Quite simply, running makes me happy.