Running Late: Starting at 44 and Finding a New Passion

If you’d told the teenage version of me — the boy who deliberately “forgot” his PE kit whenever cross country was on the timetable, or who miraculously found something better to do when running was involved — that I’d one day become a runner, I’d have laughed at you. Running was never for me. It felt like punishment, not sport. Something reserved for “real athletes,” not the kid who’d do anything to avoid it.

Fast forward a few decades. At the start of 2024, aged 44, I found myself starting to run. I had been on a work trip the day after the London marathon. One of the guests on the trip had just done it and said it was ok. A colleague then kept saying that anyone could do a 5km with a bit of work.

So I downloaded Couch to 5k and pressed play. I wanted to see if I could build from nothing — no school sports background, no secret fitness routine, just a pair of trainers and the decision to try.

The early weeks were humbling. Run for 60 seconds, walk for 90, repeat — and even that felt tough. My legs felt like lead, my breathing was all over the place, and there were plenty of times I wondered if this experiment was doomed to fail (I had done couch to 5km before and really never got past week 2). But there was something strangely addictive about it. The simplicity. The fact that progress, however tiny, was measurable. The battle to keep showing up, even when my body protested.

One thing that really helped was using my Oura Ring. It gave me a better sense of when my body was ready to push and when I needed to ease off. On days where recovery scores were low, I’d scale it back or rest completely. On days where it said I was primed, I’d lean into that energy. It became a little compass, keeping me honest and helping me avoid the burnout I might have stumbled into otherwise. I've used this all the way through the training - and I can't tell you how much of a difference it was making!

By September I had moved to LA, and things began to shift. I was away from my usual routine (and more importantly climate!), and decided to test myself properly. That’s where I ran my first ever 5km without stopping. I can still remember the feeling — not fast, not graceful, but mine. A line crossed. A milestone I’d once thought impossible.

From there, progress grew. Slowly but surely, I got better. My pace improved, my lungs stopped burning, and I started to feel like a runner — not just someone dabbling in a training app.

By Christmas and I was doing 5kms mostly ok, I decided it was time to level up and tackle Couch to 10k. The plan was to ease in, just like before. But on my very first run my headphones died. No coach, no encouragement, no playlists — just silence. I could have quit to sort them out, but something clicked. I kept going, kilometre after kilometre, until suddenly I’d done it: 10k, in one go, without meaning to. The feeling was quite surreal.

That breakthrough gave me a new kind of confidence. In April, I lined up for my first official 5k race. Running with a bib number pinned to my chest, surrounded by people of all ages chasing their own goals, was electric. Crossing that finish line wasn’t about the time on the clock — it was about being part of something I’d once thought was out of reach. The medal was my first for running and on the day I set (at the time) a new PB as well to top it off!

And now, in September 2025, I’m about to line up for the Vitality 10k in London and then the following week I will be doing the Bidwells 10k in Cambridge. Back-to-back races, something that would have sounded ridiculous only a few months earlier, now felt like proof of how far I’d come. The Vitality 10k - A huge event through the heart of the capital — the kind of race that once would have felt light years out of reach. Instead, it now feels like the next step on a journey that’s still unfolding. The best bit though is getting to do these races for a charity very close to my heart - Back up.

And alongside all of this, something else happened. The weight started to come off. Nearly 13 kilograms down in 10 months — not from some crash diet or quick fix, but from the steady, consistent rhythm of running and taking better care of myself. That’s been just as rewarding as the medals and finish lines.

Looking back, it’s not just the distances that matter. It’s the journey. From ducking out of school runs to running 10ks in major cities, it’s been about rewriting my own story, one step at a time. Running has gone from something I avoided to something I now seek out. A way to challenge myself, to reset, and to feel progress in the simplest, most honest form.

In 2025 till September I’d logged 325 kilometres. To that teenager who would do anything to avoid cross country, that number would have been mind-blowing. But here I am, still running, still building, still proving to myself that it’s never too late to start. I hope that I'll tick over the 400km mark by the end of the year because....

The next chapter is waiting. I’ve entered the Cambridge Half Marathon next March. 21.1 kilometres — a distance that once felt completely unimaginable. But that’s the beauty of this journey: every milestone makes the next one feel possible.

If there’s one thing running has taught me, it’s this: you’re never too old, too unfit, too inexperienced. If the boy who skipped cross country can become the man running races in London and Cambridge — and lose 13 kilos along the way — then maybe you can rewrite your story too.