"I'll keep on running as there's no feeling like it", says Sarah Cowen-Strong

It's running the last six miles of a marathon up and then back down a row of beach-huts where families are slapping on the suncream, barbecuing sausages and drinking wine.

It doesn't even matter if they cheer you on, which, generally being sunny sorts they do. You're going through such a private hell, living it out in public is enough to make you swear like a navvy and want to kick sand at their sausages.

As it was, a merry, 'Come on, not far to go', from a bespectacled granny peering up from her crossword that nearly had me wrestling her to the ground shrieking 'WHAT did you say old lady?'

As a veteran of these madcap events I went prepared to be encouraged, even going as far as having my name printed on my running top.

Usually a personal shout-out can give you momentum, but only from a random person on the roadside, not someone who is a) Having a really good time and b) Going to see you again later when you look and feel even worse.

But, of course, I would be prepared to provide this odd sort of beach entertainment all over again to feel as good as I did at the end of the race, the rest of the day and for about a week afterwards. And now.

There really is no event like it.

There can be few sports where you can share the start line with fellow fun-runners, serious athletes and legends. I can actually say I have run in the same race as marathon world-record holder Paula Radcliffe – I'll just gloss over the fact that she had finished before I'd got going.

As I reflected at the time of my last training push, marathon runners can come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and ages.

They can be weighed down with gels and heart-monitors or dressed as zebras. I was just as moved passing eight runners 'rowing' a Viking ship as I was by a super-runner who was nearing the end of 401 marathons in 401 days.

All were pushing themselves to the limit for charity as tens of thousands do every year.

And more of us could do it – but perhaps not in fancy-dress and not by the hundred.

If I can do it, anyone can.

You just need working knees, forgiving feet, and an ability to give up wine the morning of a race.

If you can find time to watch a soap or bake a sponge you can find time to hit the road, open up your lungs and see where the road takes you – but best to avoid seafronts until you've got your breath and your language under control.