3 days ago
Mark Armstrong: The last mile? A farewell... maybe
This might be my last column. Or it might not be.
I know, not the most decisive of starts - but after 17 years at the Eastern Daily Press and eight years of writing this running column, things are changing.
I'm leaving the EDP, and with that comes the possibility that this space may no longer be mine. But nothing is quite confirmed yet. So here I am, somewhere between a warm-down jog and the finish funnel, trying to find the words.
It's been one of the great privileges of my time here to write about running.
Not elite-level racing or podium-chasing tales, but the messy, joyful, frustrating, transformative world of being an average runner who just wants to be a little bit better. If that's you too, then I hope you've found something in these columns to connect with.
There have been some big highlights: Comrades this year, the two Berlin Marathons, Chicago, Barcelona. These were bucket-list races I never thought I'd be capable of doing when I first laced up my trainers.
But there have also been the tough ones - none more so than the Brighton Marathon in 2023, which remains one of the hardest things I've ever done. I felt like I failed that day. But, like running so often teaches you, even the worst races can point you in the right direction. That low forced me to reassess, to make changes, and to come back stronger. And maybe that's the message I'm trying to hold onto now, as I step into something new.
Leaving a job after 17 years is scary. The familiarity, the team, the routine - it's hard to walk away from. But in many ways, it mirrors how running has shaped me. I've regularly signed up for races that scared me. I've put myself out of my comfort zone in training and trusted that showing up consistently, even on bad days, would lead to growth. It usually has. And so now I'm trusting that the same will be true in my career. Comfort is lovely - but it doesn't usually move you forward.
Someone who has been with me from the very beginning of this column journey is Neil Featherby.
I still remember sitting down for a coffee with him when the idea was first floated - one column from a novice, and one from the expert. Neil has been far more than a co-columnist ever since. He's been a mentor, a sounding board, and a friend. His advice - both in running and in life - has stayed with me. During Comrades, in the toughest moments, I could hear his voice in my head reminding me of one of his core philosophies: no matter how hard it gets, just keep moving forward. It's something I try to live by now - in training, and in this next chapter.
One of the strangest, and nicest, things about writing this column has been getting used to people knowing me quite well, even if I don't know them. I've lost count of the times someone's come up to chat at a race or said something kind online. If you're one of those people - thank you. I still feel humbled by every comment, every conversation. That connection means more than you might realise.
Over the years, I've tried not to sugar-coat things. I've written about juggling running with parenting and work. I've written about injury fears, anxiety and self-doubt. I've written about the euphoria of nailing a session, the relief of crossing a finish line, and the joy of seeing your children run their first parkrun. This column has been, in many ways, a diary - one I've been lucky enough to share with thousands of readers.
If this is the end, there's no bitterness from me - just gratitude. I got to tell my story, and I hope along the way it helped you feel seen in yours.
We're all out here, trying our best - as runners, as parents, as people - and just hoping to feel a little stronger each time we lace up our shoes.
So whether I'm back here next week or not, thank you. Thank you for reading, for following along, and for reminding me that every story matters - even the one about the average bloke trying to squeeze in a tempo run between work, school runs, and finding missing water bottles and/or shoes.
Until next time (maybe),
Mark
