My story: I'm not a natural. I just kept starting again.
The short version
If you've read anything else on this site, you'll know the headline. I'm not a natural. I didn't run at school unless a PE teacher was using it as a punishment. I've started running more times than I can count, and stopped almost as many.
This is the long version. It's got a few marathons in it, but it's also got shelf stacking, three countries, an EP (yes, really), two breakdowns, a very kind friend called Toby, and a gym full of people who notice when I don't turn up.
I'm sharing it because if you've ever started, stopped and felt like a failure for it, I want you to see what the stopping actually looked like for me. It wasn't laziness. It was life. And it still came good.
Here's every year since I started tracking my runs, in one chart. Tap a year to see what was going on.
Starting, stopping, starting again
Kilometres run, 1 January to 21 October each year. Tap a year.
Turning pointsYear you’re looking at
Before Strava: 683 km between July and October 2007, from a first run that nearly killed me.
2007: a worship pastor in trainers
In 2007 I was living in Auckland, New Zealand, working as a worship pastor. I was overweight, out of shape and 26 years old. On 2 July I went out for my first run. It was about a mile, and it nearly killed me.
For my 27th birthday a few weeks later, Laura bought me a Nike+ sensor that tucked into my shoe and talked to an iPod Nano. At the time this felt like NASA-level technology. I was hooked, and I immediately did what any sensible beginner would do: I entered a half marathon.
Between July and October I ran 683 kilometres and lost over two stone. On 28 October I ran the Auckland Half Marathon in 1:31:24. I'd hoped for under 1:40. I finished 206th out of about 6,000, and, more importantly, ahead of former All Black Ian Jones. I've been dining out on that one for nearly 20 years.
I ran another half a few weeks later with friends from church, and went faster again. I'd cracked it.
I had not cracked it.
2008 and 2009: when life got in the way
In July 2008 we came home from New Zealand. We were meant to be moving to a church in the USA, but it fell through at the last minute. I worked back in Bridgwater for three months while we worked out what on earth to do next. There was some running. Not much.
At the end of 2008 we moved to Langley, British Columbia, where I'd been offered a job as an associate pastor. Our second daughter arrived very early, not long after we landed, and our first months in Canada were spent in and around a hospital.
It was in Canada that I was first diagnosed with depression. By the summer of 2009 I was completely burnt out, and in September we flew home to be near family. I had no job, a young family and absolutely no running routine.
If you've ever stopped exercising because life fell apart a bit, I want you to know that's not a character flaw. Sometimes there are bigger things to deal with first.
2009 to 2013: stacking shelves
Finding a job back in the UK took months. Countless applications, interviews that went nowhere, and a lot of opportunities that didn't happen. At the end of 2009 Waitrose offered me a job stacking shelves, and we moved back to Bridgwater.
After travelling the world as a worship pastor, that was the most humbling experience of my life. It was also, in hindsight, good for me. I soon got onto the manager training scheme, and ended up running a customer service team of 80 partners across the checkouts, home delivery and the food counters.
Running barely featured. I was on my feet all day, on early shifts or late shifts, and my Strava from those years looks like a barcode with most of the lines missing. I tried a few fad diets. I started and stopped running a few times. Every January, new me.
The stress of that role eventually became too much. I had my first breakdown at work, in front of the rest of the management team, and Laura had to come and get me. I won't make more of it than that, but it was a turning point. I'd been on and off medication since Canada, and if there's one thing I'd say to anyone reading this who's struggling: please talk to your GP. Getting proper medical help isn't failing. It's the sensible bit.
2014 and 2015: the year I ran far too much
In my last year at Waitrose we moved to Stourbridge. We reconnected with church, met some people who worked for British Youth for Christ, and I ended up working there, managing their mission teams. My job involved looking after a rapper (Guvna B), a cage football team and a street dance crew. I still can't quite believe that was a real job.
Working for Youth for Christ meant raising half of my own salary (which, to be fair, wasn't a big number). So I set myself a challenge for 2015: 12 marathons and 52 half marathons in a year, almost all of them on my own. Before that I'd run about 1,200 miles in five years and never finished a marathon.
I've barely mentioned this year before. It's never been part of the PKSRUNS story. Here's why.
It was ridiculous from the start. I had no idea about fuelling, pacing or recovery. I was making it up as I went along. One marathon was officially a "nutrition experiment", which tells you everything. At one half I got a stitch from trying to drink on the run, because I had no race nutrition plan at all. I got injured in May, I was running on empty by the summer, and somewhere along the way the 12 marathons became seven.
So I decided it was a failure. I'd said 12 and I'd done seven. I tucked the whole thing away in a cupboard and moved on, and running went back in the cupboard with it.
Only now, more than ten years later, can I see it properly. A man who'd never run a marathon ran seven of them in a year, mostly on his own, plus more than 50 half marathons and over 3,000 kilometres. My fastest half that year was 1:24:55. On my own, tracked on an early iPhone, so take it with a generous pinch of salt. But still.
Two lessons, both learned late. First: a big challenge isn't the same thing as a habit. I'd been running for the target, not for me, so when the target went, so did the running. Second: be careful what you call a failure. Seven out of 12 isn't a failure. It's seven marathons.
Seven out of 12 isn't a failure. It's seven marathons.
2016 to 2019: Salisbury, an EP and rock bottom
At the start of 2016 we moved to Salisbury, where I became the worship pastor at St Paul's. In 2017, 119 lovely people backed a Kickstarter that let me record an EP of original worship songs at the church. [Join With] Heaven came out in May 2018, and it's still on Spotify if you're curious. Be kind.
(This, incidentally, is why my easy-pace test is "can I still sing?" Old habits.)
The running came and went. 2017 was a good year. 2018 was not.
In the summer of 2018 I had another breakdown. I was very unwell with depression and anxiety, signed off sick from August until December and more or less housebound. I left my job at St Paul's and hit rock bottom.
In January 2019 a friend offered me a job at his market research business, and I spent the next seven and a half years there. But my head took a lot longer to recover than my CV did. That's why my 2019 Strava calendar has ten runs on it. I've joked about that calendar in other posts, and it is funny in a "look at the state of that" way. But this is the honest reason behind it.
What helped was small. In the middle of 2019 I started playing golf again. I played loads as a kid and dreamed of turning pro. I was nowhere near good enough. But walking the course once a week got me outside and moving when running felt impossible. A walk counts. It really does.
(When the pandemic hit and I was furloughed, I got my handicap down to 6. Twelve-year-old me would have been thrilled. My running, less so.)
2020 to 2022: Toby
The running restart came from somewhere I didn't expect. My good friend Toby knew I used to run, and he could see life was really hard for me. So he took it upon himself to sign me up for the New Forest Half Marathon in December 2021. I had about two weeks to get ready, so I went out every single day. I got round in 1:53, overweight and very much at full capacity.
It was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.
New Forest Half, December 2021. Me and Toby (the one in the black cap), two weeks after he signed me up.
Over the next couple of years, Toby and I ran together once a week, sometimes more. It was never scheduled. We just held each other accountable for keeping it going. Looking back, that was the first time running stuck because of a person rather than a plan.
2023 to 2025: going public
At the start of 2023, aged 42, I did two slightly mad things. I signed up for the Manchester Marathon on a whim, and I started a YouTube channel purely to hold myself accountable. My thinking was simple: if I fail, I fail publicly. Was it a midlife crisis? Probably.
In April 2023 I ran Manchester in 2:59. My first official marathon, and under three hours.
In June 2023 we moved the family back to Bridgwater, and I found Watergate Studios. Small-group strength training, with coaches who knew my name and what I was training for. I could run a marathon. I could not do a decent squat. I turn up three mornings a week now, without fail unless I'm properly ill or away, and it's the people who keep me there.
2024 brought a London Marathon place and a fractured foot. I was strongly advised not to run, so I went to London, collected my bib and came home absolutely gutted. Five months later I ran Loch Ness in 2:45, finished 20th, and decided bagpipes are borderline demonic. That's 14 minutes faster than Manchester, on a much hillier course, and I put a lot of it down to the strength work.
In 2025 I finally ran London. A bolt came through the carbon plate in my shoe, I cramped, I cried, and I finished in 3:15. Afterwards I felt completely worn down. I'd become a slave to the stopwatch and the camera, so I stepped back from chasing PBs and filming every run, and remembered why I liked running in the first place. In December I ran Valencia in 2:47. It was such a hard race. I felt in great shape going in, but on the day nothing felt right and my heart rate was through the roof almost from the start. Turns out I was ill. Laura spent the whole weekend in bed with flu. Not every race has to be amazing either.
2026: doing this properly
Over a year before I left my job, I signed up for a Personal Trainer course. And then I never found the time to finish it. Funny, that.
At the start of 2026 I had a bit of a turning point. I realised I was probably about halfway through my life.
If I wasn't going to take a gamble on myself now, I never would.
So in June I left my job to focus on PKSRUNS.
I haven't completely hung up the market research hat. I've just joined Bello as Head of Growth, two days a week, which keeps my foot in the research industry. The rest of the week is PKSRUNS.
I've described PKSRUNS in the past as my alter ego: the person I'd like to be. It's become a platform, an identity, and a commitment to myself that I'll never go back to the stop-start. And the bit I love most is that it's helped so many other people with their own running and fitness.
I'm now a qualified Level 3 Personal Trainer. I've trained consistently for more than 250 weeks in a row, through injuries, busy weeks and a lot of rain. Most of my running is slow. I go to the gym three mornings a week. And next April I'm going after 2:40 in the marathon.
Not bad for someone who started out purple after one mile.
What 19 years of starting again taught me
It was never about the plan. I've tried every plan going. None of them got me out of bed on a wet January morning. People did. Toby. My YouTube viewers. The coaches and regulars at Watergate.
Big challenges don't build habits. 2015 was huge, and it still didn't stick. Small promises, kept week after week, are what finally did.
Slow down to go fast. Most of my running now is easy. It's what took me from that first mile to a 2:45 marathon.
Get stronger. I avoided the gym for years. Strength work has made more difference to my running than any shoe or gadget.
Look after your head first. Running has helped my mental health enormously, but it isn't a cure, and it isn't a replacement for proper help. When things got bad, I needed my GP, medication and time. Exercise came back when I was ready for it.
A walk counts. Some years, walking a golf course once a week was the best I could do. It still counted.
Where the Club fits in
Every time running finally stuck for me, it was because someone noticed. That's the whole idea behind the PKS Training Club.
It's a small online community of ordinary people: some starting for the first time, lots starting again, some trying to get better. Every Monday you make a promise small enough to keep. Every day you log what you did, and a walk counts. On Wednesday there's a live lunchtime session. On Saturday we share the highs and the lows. And if you go quiet, someone will notice. I'll be in there every day.
I'm opening 15 founding places at £20 a month, yours for as long as you stay a member. Get on the list and you'll be the first to hear when the doors open.
If you've read this far, thank you. Now go and do something small for yourself this week. A walk counts. So does a nap.
Have a great week, folks.
Paul
The information in this post is general guidance. If you have pain, an injury or a medical concern, speak to your GP or a physio before starting something new.
