0.05% of the world have run a marathon, up to 1 in 14 men face fertility challenges, and 1 in 4 people experience miscarriage. As of last week, I tick all the above boxes. I'm not sure on those odds, but one thing I do know is that all are pretty rough places to be at certain times...

12 months ago, if someone had told me I would have run a marathon within a year, I would have laughed in their face. I had no plans to ever put myself through something like that, at least it wasn’t in my short-term plan.

We were busy building NeXYs, the podcast was growing, and home life was busier than ever. There was no way I had room to train for a marathon.

How wrong I was.

On a sunny day in July, a notification popped up on my phone. I had been tagged in a post on Instagram about miscarriage. And more importantly for this topic, a post about running a marathon to support those going through miscarriage and baby loss. Before I knew it, I was swiping open my phone, giving a thumbs up emoji along with the comment, “yep, I’m in.”

So last week, my marathon rolled around. I had the privilege of running the Bedfordshire leg of Olly Brown's incredible Marathon for Miracles Challenge. 39 marathons, in 39 weeks, over the 39 historical counties of England. A truly monumental task.

I was marathon number 12. I had done the training, sacrificed my time, and had all the aches and pains to go with it. Now it was time to run.

They say in life there are moments that define an individual, and I truly believe last week I had one of those moments.

At mile 16, Jenn and a small group of family and friends met me and Olly for a restock of supplies. As I leant in the boot of my car, refilling my camel pack, stuffing my pockets with more isotonic gels, and shoving a few jelly babies in my mouth, I felt ill. I felt exhausted. I felt completely lost. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to continue, and I didn’t know how I could make it to the end. On the outside I was smiling, but on the inside all hell was breaking loose.

But despite all the doubts and pain, at no point did I think, “I can’t do this, I am not going to make it.” My inner voice was saying, “Only 10 miles left?” At that point, I didn’t have the answer to how I was actually going to complete the run, but I was 100% sure that I was not failing. Giving up was not an option.

My unwavering focus (albeit broken) was in part down to three things. My son’s gentle expression of pride as I leant exhausted against the rear bumper of the car. He didn’t see a struggling man, he saw his dad that could do anything. The memory of the babies I never got to hold, including my son’s twin. And the thought of men facing the challenge of miscarriage or baby loss alone.

One of those things alone would have been enough to spur me on, but together there was no way I was stopping. So, I closed the boot, expressed to the waiting family that I was f*cked, smiled and said, “10 more (miles) to go, see you in two hours,” and started jogging off across the car park.

Before I knew it, 17 miles passed, then 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, and finally 26. I had to pause, I had to stretch, I had to walk at times… but the one thing I didn’t do was stop.

Fertility and miscarriage have an incredible way of stopping you in your tracks when you least expect them to. I have felt that first-hand in relation to both of them, but I can’t help but feel that the pain and suffering I experienced during my fertility journey meant I was able to continue running without questioning my ability to do so. After all, I had experienced worse. It wasn’t about making progress at a world-record pace, it was about putting one leg in front of the other and making progress.

The same applies to fertility and miscarriage. Some days you wake up and feel completely lost, but how you respond is in your control. During my fertility journey, especially during darker times following our miscarriage, success or progress some days was just getting out of bed and trying to function normally.

Life WILL throw challenges at you that you have no clue how to manage or see coming, even with the best laid plans, but that’s fine. The key and strength come from the action you take to move forward; however small those steps seem at the time.

‍