I didn’t sign up for a half marathon because I love long distances. I signed up because I needed something to aim for.
Somewhere between trying to lose weight, get fitter, and prove to myself that midlife didn’t mean “done,” I realised I needed more than just the same 5K loop around my estate. I wanted a proper challenge — something just far enough outside my comfort zone to scare me into training.
So I picked a half marathon. Not a full one (let’s not get carried away), but still a big enough goal to take seriously. 13.1 miles. Far enough to feel proud of. Far enough to make my knees nervous.
And here’s what I’ve learned since then: the distance is only part of the challenge. Training for a half is a mental, physical, and emotional rollercoaster — especially in your 40s.
The Fantasy: Epic Runs, Clear Progress, Glorious Finish Lines
Before I started training, I had a vision in my head.
Me, running effortlessly along quiet roads. Gradually getting stronger, faster, leaner. Clocking up miles like a machine. Big cinematic training montages. Sunrises. Podcasts. A heroic finish.
What actually happened?
Sore shins. Slower progress than expected. A lot of squinting at my Garmin wondering how the hell I’d only done 1.3 miles. Training runs that felt more like mild acts of defiance than anything resembling glory.
It turns out training for a half marathon isn’t glamorous. It’s not even particularly fun most days. It’s hard graft, steady effort, and learning to keep going even when you’re not entirely sure why.
Lesson #1: You Can’t Rush It
I thought I’d build up quickly. After all, I’d been running for a while already. I could handle 5Ks and the odd 10K. How hard could it be to stretch that out?
Answer: very.
Going from 10K to 13.1 miles isn’t just “a bit more.” It’s a whole different game. Your body needs time to adapt. And mine — being in its 40s and not exactly elite-athlete material — needs even more time.
I had to slow down. Way down. I had to walk sometimes. I had to repeat weeks in my training plan because my legs weren’t ready.
I learned (reluctantly) that more isn’t always better. That sometimes, cutting a run short is the smart move. And that slow progress is still progress — even if Strava doesn’t give you a medal for it.
Lesson #2: Injuries Are Lurking… If You Don’t Respect the Process
Within the first month of upping my mileage, I got cocky. Added a few extra kilometres here, skipped a recovery day there.
Boom: shin splints.
It wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough to derail things for a bit. And it taught me one of the key truths of half marathon training — your ego will get you injured.
In your 40s, recovery matters. So does rest. So does strength training (yes, that again). If you ignore those things, your body lets you know — loudly.
Now I treat training more like gardening than a race. It’s about steady tending. Not forcing growth. Not hacking at it. Just showing up, doing the work, and letting the results unfold over time.
Lesson #3: The Long Runs Are the Real Test
You can do all the speed work, hill sprints, and recovery jogs you like — but it’s the long runs that make or break you.
At a certain point, you’re out there running for over an hour, then pushing closer to two. That’s where the mental battles begin.
- Can I really keep going?
- Why did I eat that thing last night?
- Should my knee feel like that?
- Is this actually enjoyable or am I just stubborn?
The long run strips away all the noise. It’s just you, your legs, your thoughts, and maybe a few energy gels that may or may not agree with your stomach.
And when you finish it? You feel invincible. Even if you’re hobbling slightly.
Lesson #4: It’s Not About Speed — It’s About Stamina
This was a tough pill to swallow.
I used to judge my runs based on pace. But half marathon training forced me to rethink that. Pace doesn’t matter if you can’t finish the distance.
I had to get comfortable running slower than I thought I should. Slowing down to preserve energy. To build endurance. To finish strong instead of crawling home.
Some of my best runs during training have been the slowest. Because they showed me I could go the distance — and still function afterwards.
Lesson #5: You Have to Make Time for It
Training for a half takes time. More time than I expected. It’s not just the runs — it’s the warm-ups, the cool-downs, the stretching, the fuelling, the recovery.
And when you’re balancing work, family, and the rest of real life, that time doesn’t magically appear. You have to choose to make it happen.
Sometimes that means early mornings. Sometimes it means rearranging weekends. Sometimes it means skipping the sofa and getting your run done in the rain.
You don’t need monk-like discipline. But you do need consistency. Otherwise you end up winging it — and 13.1 miles isn’t something you want to wing.
Lesson #6: It’s Worth It — Even When It’s Not Fun
Here’s the weird thing: despite all the aches, setbacks, scheduling headaches, and mornings where I’ve stood in the kitchen staring blankly at my shoes… I’m still doing it.
Because there’s something powerful about committing to a big goal. About pushing your limits in a steady, structured way. About saying, “This matters,” and proving it with action.
Running a half marathon won’t change your life overnight. But training for one might shift something inside you. It certainly has for me.
It’s made me more patient. More focused. Weirdly proud of myself — not for being fast, but for showing up.
Final Thoughts: It’s Not Easy, But It’s Possible
Training for a half marathon in your 40s isn’t a straightforward path. It’s a winding trail full of tight calves, lost toenails, cold mornings, and unglamorous triumphs.
But it’s also deeply satisfying.
If you’re thinking about it — do it. But do it smart. Respect the distance. Go slow. Take rest seriously. Invest in some decent plasters. And don’t worry if some runs feel awful.
They all count. They all build something.
And when you cross that finish line, whether in a race or just on your own route with no spectators, you’ll know exactly why you started.
It wasn’t to prove something to anyone else.
It was to prove to yourself that you could.
And you can.