Marathon 39: The Big Finale in Norfolk

And so, here we are. The last one!

17 months of planning. Nearly 9 months of running. 39 marathons across 39 historic counties of England. And it all came down to one final 26.2 miles.

I’ve said for months how excited I was for the Norfolk leg, and not simply because it was the last one. Norfolk has always been special to me. It’s home, and a place where I spent some of the best and most formative years of my life. So there was something particularly fitting about finishing the challenge back on the coast.

There was also a very special crew joining me for the final marathon. Will and Chrissy have been part of this challenge from the very beginning and have been a huge part of the team behind it. We genuinely couldn’t have done this year without them, so finishing the final leg with Will felt like exactly the right way to bring it all to a close.

There was another reason Norfolk felt so significant. It was the first marathon I ever ran.

Before this year, the Norfolk Coastal Marathon was the only marathon I had ever completed. I ran it 3 weeks after we lost our baby, and I remember it being difficult in almost every sense. Physically, my training had been heavily disrupted. Emotionally, I was struggling too.

I remember particularly well the final five or six miles, when I was really battling.

I kept thinking that, as hard as it was, I was incredibly fortunate simply to be there. Two legs, two feet and the ability to keep moving. The baby we had lost would never get that opportunity.

Coming back to Norfolk for marathon number 39, almost four years later, was therefore pretty special.

And this time, thankfully, the weather was on our side.

We arrived on Friday to some pretty grim conditions. It was wet, windy and more than a little concerning. But the forecast had been showing winds from the west all week, which meant we should have a tailwind for much of the route.

Come Saturday morning, the rain had disappeared, the sun was out and we were ready to hit the trails.

The plan was to aim for around 4:30, which felt like a good target at this stage of the year, particularly given the terrain. We eventually crossed the line in 4:31, so the pacing was pretty much spot on.

I was also lucky enough to have a brilliant marathon crew around me. Robin, both Wills and Naomi all took on the full marathon, with three of us eventually finishing together and the others not far behind. We’ve had some fantastic company throughout the year, but having so many people put their hands up to run the full 26.2 with me for the final one was a brilliant way to finish.

Amy was running the half marathon too, alongside a squad of around a dozen people, all in pink and all representing Tommy’s.

So it was quite a sight. And the support was incredible.

Whichever village we came through, whichever crossing point we reached, there seemed to be someone there cheering us on. Some were friends and family, others had simply heard about what we were doing and wanted to give us an extra shout.

A huge shout-out to Runners Next The Sea, who organised a fantastic event and had been so supportive of the challenge in the run-up. They made a real effort to tell people what we were doing, which meant plenty of runners knew about the challenge and gave us a cheer as we passed.

At around nine miles, we even ran within metres of where we'd be celebrating that evening. No beers at that point, sadly, but the finish line suddenly felt a lot more tangible.

There was one hill on the course — well done, Norfolk — which we got out of the way pretty early. The next big challenge came just after halfway, as we crossed the sand dunes between Gun Hill and Holkham.

Thankfully, Will had been scouting the route in advance and had found the best way through, meaning we avoided a lot of the really deep, soft sand. We made it into Holkham Woods relatively unscathed.

We were also joined around Holkham by Tim, another huge supporter of the challenge and a close friend of Will’s. He’s also the brother of my best mate Charlie, who ran with me in London, so it was great to have him there for the final stretch.

From my point of view, the rest of the race became a countdown. There have been plenty of difficult runs this year. This honestly wasn't one of them. It felt like it was floating from start to finish.

Yes, there was some fitness in the legs. Yes, it was a lovely course. But mostly, I just knew it was the last one. I was having such a good time that I simply couldn't wait to get to the finish.

There was one particularly tough stretch coming off the beach at Wells and heading up towards the harbour. For most of the day the wind had been at our backs, but here we turned and spent about a mile heading straight into it. That was tough.

From there, Will was starting to battle a little, and the pace became a bit more up and down as we tackled the final 10K towards Morston.

But having already run four marathons with us this year, Will was never going to quit at the final hurdle. He kept chugging away, despite having had a fairly serious Achilles injury earlier in the year, and it was a seriously impressive effort.

Eventually, we got there.

The finish line doesn't really appear until you're right on top of it. So as we rounded a corner, suddenly there was a sea of pink in front of us and the cheers started to build.

Crossing that finish line with Amy, Poppy, Will and Naomi was a moment I don't think I'll ever forget.

My 39th marathon for Marathons for Miracles, done.

We waited for the rest of the crew, packed up, showered and headed to the White Horse for a very well-earned celebration.

There was a fantastic spread, plenty of beers, some incredibly generous auction bids and a huge number of raffle tickets sold. A massive thank you to my mum, Claire, for coordinating all of that and helping turn the final weekend into such a brilliant fundraising finale. Another huge thanks goes again to Will and Chrissy, and my best mate Charlie for making the party so seamless, and something that Amy and I could really enjoy without a thought. 

There were a few reflections. A few poignant words. And then it was time to properly enjoy the party.

Given that I'm still feeling hungover writing this on Thursday, I think that tells you everything you need to know.

What started as an idea 17 months ago is now finished.

39 marathons. 39 historic counties. Hundreds of miles, countless supporters, some incredibly tough days, some brilliant ones, and more stories and friendships than I could ever have imagined when I first came up with the idea.

And somehow, fittingly, it all ended where it began.

In Norfolk.

What a way to finish!

39/39. Over and out (for now).