Back
In 2025 a number of us at Lanyon Bowdler joined the LegalRunner running group, which was started by Law Society President Mark Evans. My colleague Vicki Thomas and I were amongst the first to sign up! LegalRunner also provide the opportunity to purchase colourful running T shirts, the profits of which go to LawCare, the charity supporting mental health and wellbeing for those working in the legal sector.
Joining the group has spurred us on further to plan future marathons and trail runs. But we took it to a whole different level when we decided to run an ultramarathon!
It was spring last year that Vicki and I agreed - to take part in a 50-mile ultramarathon run which would take us from Manchester to Liverpool. Surely it was the next logical step having just completed a marathon?
In reality, it was more a case of mutual encouragement overriding common sense.
What followed was not just a long day, but the result of five months of hard training—some of which, in hindsight, should probably have been a warning.
The Training: Character Building (Apparently)
We booked to run a trail marathon in September 2025 which we thought would be a good build up for this event, but on reflection our training was a little kamikaze with lots of lovely 20 mile runs out in the Shropshire Hills and along the Shropshire Way running a number of different ways back into Shrewsbury (mainly uphill!) with a final run of just under 19 miles only nine days before the event!
It was OK we thought as Manchester to Liverpool is fairly flat, so if we can do a hilly trail marathon what’s a few extra miles on the flat! Looking at a number of ultramarathon training plans we realised we had no idea really where to start with planning to run an ultramarathon, so at this point we made the sensible decision to enlist and trust a coach.
And so started five months of an app on our phone, and our coach on hand, telling us what we needed to run, along with pensive waits every other Tuesday to see what the next couple of weeks on the plan might look like, and dreading the intervals or hill run repeat days!
There were runs in snow and ice where our hair and water bottles actually froze. Runs in high winds and storms where turning back felt sensible—but wasn’t entertained. Routes blocked by fallen trees that required climbing under, over, or straight through. Numerous texts to ask ‘how are your legs this morning!’ or ‘I’m so tired!
On one particularly graceful occasion, I slipped on a muddy canal path in Llangollen and fell down. Vicki did briefly check (very briefly) whether I was OK — before immediately getting her camera out to capture the moment!
Supportive, but with priorities.
The Manchester to Liverpool ultramarathon follows the Manchester Ship Canal, the Trans Pennine Way and the River Mersey so our coach advised as many canal paths and similar surfaces for training as we could find. We hadn’t factored in that running along canals and old train lines mile after mile is very (very) boring and unstimulating.
Our longest training run was just over 28 miles, five weeks from race day — which did raise a small concern: we were about to attempt nearly double that distance on the day itself. We took a trip to Wolverhampton and ran along the canal to Birmingham (with only a short detour and getting a little bit lost due to a path closure and a poor sense of direction)!
There were times that we thought, surely, we don’t have to do all of this training, and times we thought we aren’t running far enough and thinking our longest run needs to be more than 28 miles. But on a number of occasions one or the other of us said ‘we have to trust the coach, after all, that’s what we are paying her for’.
Along with the run from Wolverhampton to Birmingham we also ran from Newport to Stafford and back, Chirk to Llangollen and back and also along the Silkin Way in Telford.
So, by race day, we were well trained, if not entirely reassured.
Betty
Four weeks before the race, after a session which felt absolutely fine, I developed a hip issue as soon as I stopped. Naturally, I named her Betty.
Betty stopped me from running for a couple of weeks, making training slightly questionable, and up until race day I was running for no more than four minutes at a time. Trips to the physio meant legs being manipulated at questionable angles and painful massages! Weirdly Betty then disappeared the minute I crossed the start line on race day.
Which either means she healed perfectly… or she was largely in my head. Either way, a positive outcome.
The Plan
Ultramarathon running means eating (a lot)! Every 30 minutes (in theory) was our coach’s advice so we had trained our long runs with a 10:3 run-walk strategy to give us time to eat.
That became 7:3 on race day due to Betty.
Learning to eat whilst running was an art in itself, and much harder than expected – but necessary and it’s amazing how much you can squash into a running backpack. It was like a lucky dip, you put your hand in and had no idea what you might pull out. Our backpacks held energy gels, Kendal mint cake, Belgian waffles, mini cheddars, rice krispie bars, chocolate crepe, Soreen, cheese and onion rolls, ham sandwiches, Haribo sours, onion rings, Jaffa cake bars, oat bars and the list goes on – all of which is clearly the food of athletes!
Electrolytes was a whole other world to get right, too little on a training run and you felt like you had a hangover for days…but advice is also don’t have too much! I struggled the whole way through training with balancing electrolytes as I needed more than average, but I had a clear strategy to save weight in backpack to refill the one litre fluid I was carrying with 500ml electrolyte and 500ml water at every checkpoint, and then drink 300ml in the checkpoint. I failed at the first checkpoint, and the second, to drink the extra 300ml remembering what I should have been doing about 10 minutes after we left each checkpoint – I suffered for this later on!
By the later miles at the checkpoints all I could stomach was a Dairylea sandwich and a swig of cola, this felt like exceptional catering! I am still embarrassed that at the final checkpoint at 44 miles, which was up a slight bank off the main track, that I refused to walk up to it and one of the lovely marshals went off to get me a Dairylea sandwich and I then promptly sent him back to fetch a drink of cola too!
Mile 1 - 25: “Get it in Your Bag”
We approached the first half by “banking” miles—like a very low-budget version of I'm a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here! Each mile we imagined we were collecting stars and said get it in your bag!’
Each mile ticked off felt like progress safely stored away.
From mile 26 onwards, we promptly started counting them back down again and as we covered each mile we would shout ‘get it out of your bag’ while throwing an imaginary star over our shoulder - to some very strange looks at times!
Mile 22: Salt, Photos, and Logistics
By mile 22, my face had developed a solid layer of salt and I was beginning to look like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards! I was discreetly handed a face wipe by our support crew who had met us, suggesting I should wipe my face!
Vicki, meanwhile, looked like she was on a relaxed day out smiling for all the photos!
At this checkpoint, I’d messaged our support crew for a knee support. What followed was less “smooth execution” and more “team effort,” involving my son’s girlfriend on her hands and knees attempting to pull it over my foot while I refused to remove my shoe.
Not efficient, but eventually successful.
Mile 25: Peggy Arrives
At mile 25, my little toe decided it had had enough, I can only explain it as it felt like something shot through my toe - I couldn’t put my foot down for a while. Enter Peggy.
Whilst I was hopping around and sitting down briefly telling Vicki to go on without me, she was considering how she might complete the remaining 25 miles alone – which given my new movement style, felt entirely reasonable. She decided to stick around to see how we’d get on!
Running became less convincing, so we adjusted to 5:5 run-walk.
We carried on.
Mile 32: A Small Win
At around 32 miles, we realised we were a couple of hours ahead of the cut-off.
This was unexpectedly reassuring.
It meant we didn’t need to maintain pace—we just needed to maintain progress.
Mile 35-ish: Sue Joins
Because things were going too smoothly, another toe issue appeared. This one became Sue.
At this stage, I was less running and more negotiating with various parts of my body.
The Route: From Manc to Scouse
One unexpected highlight was noticing the shift in accents along the route.
Early conversations were unmistakably Mancunian; later, clearly Scouse.
A surprisingly reliable progress marker.
Mile 40: Onion Rings and a Taxi
Around this point Vicki developed a blister on the sole of her foot, and was feeling very green at one point when she thought the blister had exploded.
Around mile 40, while eating onion rings and reconsidering earlier decisions, we watched another competitor calmly get into a taxi and leave.
It looked like an excellent idea.
We did not follow.
The Mersey: Reality Check
We reached the Mersey, where strong headwinds made the idea of running more symbolic than practical. We were entering a full on head wind and it was difficult to move forwards let alone run forwards. We decided we would preserve far more energy by walking.
Power walking became the strategy.
The Final Miles
The last six miles were about focus.
Vicki went into full concentration mode—headphones in, minimal conversation, clear instruction to me: “Tap me if you need anything”.
At around mile 45, a loud roaring noise suggested either hallucination or something dramatic. It turned out to be an upturned motorbike in a canal, engine still running.
At that point, we accepted it like it was completely normal without further analysis.
The Finish (and Immediate Reality)
We crossed the finish line expecting to eat everything in sight and feel on top of the world.
Instead, Vicki later fainted getting out of the bath.
When I was finally brave enough to take my socks off, the “toe issues” revealed themselves as impressively large blisters.
I couldn’t keep anything down, was clearly severely short on electrolytes, and didn’t manage proper food until lunchtime the next day—dry toast being the highlight.
The Day After (Reality, Continued)
Walking the next day was… ambitious.
In the days that followed, I also lost three toenails—an outcome that feels entirely disproportionate to simply going for a run.
We agreed running on the flat for 50 miles is relentless and definitely isn’t easier than hills! Neither of us wanted to see another canal for a very long time.
The Takeaway
Plans change.
Conditions aren’t always ideal.
Support matters.
And progress—however it looks—is what gets you to the end.
Also:
Don’t get in the taxi.
Trust the coach—even when the maths seems questionable.
And perhaps don’t get too attached to your toenails
One Final Note
Would we do it again we asked each other – have we recovered from this challenge we ask – but obviously if you’re in, then I’m in… questionable decisions are better as a team!
"*" indicates required fields