From Pub to Pavement: A 52-Year-Old's Reluctant Half-Marathon Journey
Barry's Reluctant Half-Marathon Training for Charity

Barry Glendenning has a confession to make. He is a runner. For a 52-year-old who describes himself as clinically obese and a regular binge drinker, this is not a label he ever expected to claim. His journey from the pub stool to the pavement was not born from a sudden health epiphany, but from a challenge he couldn't back down from.

The Gauntlet is Thrown: From Bar Talk to Road Race

The origins of this sporting endeavour lie in the Football Weekly podcast studio. After belittling a friend's achievement of completing the London Landmarks Half-Marathon (LLHM), Barry's colleague Max Rushden publicly challenged him to answer his own flippant question: "How hard can running 13 miles be?" The result? Barry is now committed to plodding 13.1 miles through central London in April.

The route will take him and over 20,000 other runners from Whitehall, past iconic sights like Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, across Westminster Bridge and along the Victoria Embankment to Trafalgar Square. He is running for Great Ormond Street Children's Charity (GOSH), a cause he was connected to simply because their fundraising chief was the first to ask after hearing about the challenge. To date, largely thanks to the generosity of the Football Weekly audience, he has raised an impressive £25,096.

The Painful Reality of Training

Barry's athletic history was virtually non-existent. Before October, his last memory of running over 20 metres was in 1992, fleeing an altercation. His lifestyle was sedentary, fuelled by drink and cigarettes until he quit 18 months ago. Facing the reality of his half-marathon pledge, he downloaded the Runna app, which devised a plan for a man of his "condition and physique".

His first 30-minute session, featuring just 10 minutes of jogging, left him a wreck. Fast forward three months and 40 training sessions later, and he can now manage a 10km run. His progress is tangible but painful. He has become a self-described "Strava wanker", meticulously logging his runs. His pace remains a humble plod; his first 5km time of 44 minutes and 23 seconds was a world away from Joshua Cheptegei's record of 12:35, though he has since shaved nine minutes off that personal best.

The Cost of Commitment: Peas, Pain and Podcasts

The transformation into a runner has come at a price, both financial and physical. He has invested £160 in Asics trainers, acquired thermal base-layers, and owns a pair of leggings he's too embarrassed to wear in public. His keys and phone now reside in a special running belt.

The physical toll is constant. His legs are perpetually sore, he suffers from chafing thighs, and he anticipates nipple pain. He has developed "pavement rage" and recently soothed a hamstring twinge with a bag of frozen peas. He even ran on Christmas Day. Ironically, he has put on weight, noting that a 10km run only earns a calorie deficit equivalent to three pints of Guinness.

To combat the tedium, he listens to podcasts, interrupted by an app's AI voice urging him to "speed up". He has started posting post-run videos on Instagram from a familiar park bench to boost donations, a strategy that has trapped him further in the running world he claims to despise.

Barry Glendenning will line up in April in a 2XL, turquoise, recycled running vest from GOSH. He accepts he won't win. But driven by the donations of thousands and a stubborn refusal to quit, the reluctant runner is determined to cross the finish line, proving just how hard—and how possible—running 13 miles can be.