Slipping in the muddy pen at the top of our garden, the solid green receptacle failed miserably to soften my landing as I fell face down at high velocity. My rib cage proudly performed its duty in protecting my vital internal organs from being pulverised. However the bruising meant walking, never mind running, would be painful for the next month.

It gave me a good excuse to avoid running in the less welcoming period post-Christmas, when motivating yourself to go out for a frosty morning 10k is somewhat more challenging than when the sun is coming up in the summer. This fowl foul-up meant I could legitimately chicken out of winter running.

Fast forward one year though and it’s a very different story. I’d set myself the challenge of running at least 5k everyday throughout January 2015. And it was a target I was actually looking forward to completing.

Incurring an injury that would prevent me succeeding, was something I now feared. I had the running bug. And it was not a bugbear, but rather a healthy addiction – or certainly an addiction to being healthy.

Alan Partridge once said to a widow at a 40-year-old’s funeral: “Those people who say life begins at 40… they’re notable by their absence… the nerve”. For me, life did begin at 40. That landmark birthday sparked my desire to be a fit middle-aged dad, and transformed my approach to running.

A stereotypically tight Yorkshire man, investing in a £200 Garmin watch was an initial trigger to keep running - determined to get my money’s worth by using it regularly.

However it was combining this with the Strava running app (follow my progress at https://www.strava.com/athletes/7767857) that introduced the competitive element and made me a jogging junky.

One year later I was two stone lighter, running had become habitual and I have been excited about tracking my progress and setting new PRs ever since.

I am inspired by my father-in-law, Young Pete, who achieved every runner’s dream of a 4-minute mile. My Chariots of Fire ringtone reminds me of my own more realistic goal of a sub 5-minute time, which for me would be huge personal achievement.

To keep the poultry theme going a bit longer, I’m no spring chicken. And to be fair, Young Pete was 20 years younger than me when he joined the ranks of Roger Bannister’s running elite. So I accept I’m slightly passed my prime now to equal that feat.

Ask Young Pete how old he is, and you’ll find he is perpetually 42. In fact in dog(legs) years he is. It’s a running joke (literally). In fact it’s rather apt that I have just been accepted to run in the 2016 London Marathon – when I’ll be aged… you’ve guessed it: 42.

My first marathon. The furthest I have ever run in my life is half that distance. I remember clearly stating at the end of the Leeds Half Marathon in 2013 that I was not inclined to repeat that distance again. In fact I think I put it less eloquently. The words ‘Never a-f***ing-gain’ spring to mind.

But earlier this year I proudly set a PB in the Liverpool Rock N’ Roll Half Marathon. I then proclaimed that I was not in the least bit interested in doubling this distance – ever. I recall saying that humans are just not supposed to run 26.2 miles. In the Yorkshire vernacular, you’d have to be as daft as a brush. So thanks to the friendly rivalry with my training buddy Shaun that we both thrive on, I find myself confirming that I must indeed be as silly as a stick with which one sweeps.

The post on October 1^st brought the surprising news that despite a one-in-ten chance of securing a ballot entry place for the London Marathon it was my lucky (or unlucky depending upon how you look at it) day. And I now face the rather daunting, although actually very exciting, challenge of preparing for the endurance race of my life.

Shaun, who had initially been the eager one to enter the marathon was disappointed (to put it mildly – chuffing gutted is more accurate!) to find he was one of the 90% who missed out on a ballot place (which coincidentally, is the same as the failure rate for the SAS selection process).

But it’s actually turned out to be a positive thing for us as we were always in this together. And now it has really [poultry pun alert…] egged us on to ensure we pull out all the stops to raise as much money as we can for a worthwhile cause, while we satisfy our mid-life crisis, masochistic desire to push our ageing bodies to the limit of their capabilities.

A place has now been secured for Shaun to run for a charity dear to both our hearts. I have also pledged to donate any sponsorship I can secure to support our chosen charity, The Children’s Trust – and we hope our joint fund-raising efforts will ensure we can maximise the support we can give.

While we lack the flowing locks of the Steve Prefontaine-esq running duo from the directory enquiries ads of the late 90s, the idea is our two shiny heads are better than one when it comes to raising dosh while we dash.