Initially I though it would simply perish on infertile ground. After all, I'd never run further than 10km in a stretch in my life before. I'd only taken up running a few years earlier, aged 40, in a desperate bid to stave off old age related unfitness. An ultra-marathon was inconceivable. I couldn't even discuss the idea with anyone because they'd think I was mad. And I probably would have had to agree with them.
But it didn't perish. It took root and grew. It didn't exactly blossom, but it clung on.
This blog is the story of that seed, how it has grown so far, and what happens to it from here on out. I invite you to keep reading about how it fares, and ultimately to find out if I ever make it through an ultra-marathon.
(An ultra-marathon or ultra, for those that don't know, is a running race longer than the standard 26 miles of a marathon. A typical ultra is 50 miles, but they can be shorter, or much longer. I set my sights on something around 50 miles.)
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