Where There’s Blayze

Last week my phone helpfully reminded me that my car’s MOT and service were due.
A small notification. A large emotional blow.

There is, apparently, no warmer welcome into a new year than an unexpected bill, just in case you were still clinging to the illusion that Christmas “wasn’t that expensive.” Early January has a particular talent for exposing poor life choices, and this year it wasted no time.

But the car wasn’t the only thing due a check-up.

For the last three years, January has marked the beginning of a fairly dramatic lifestyle shift for me. Somewhere in my infinite wisdom, I keep signing up for marathons in late April. And, as it turns out, the most logical time to train for a 26.2-mile race is immediately after New Year’s Day, when the mince pies are finally gone and society no longer accepts “it’s Christmas” as a valid excuse to eat your body weight in chocolate.

January 2nd arrives every year with the same rude awakening: you cannot just turn up and run a marathon. It is hard. It requires work. I haven’t run very much since completing the Chester Marathon in October, where I finished feeling fit and quietly smug. Fast-forward to last week and I struggled to drag myself past half-marathon distance, at a pace that would have embarrassed my October self. Training matters. Ignore it, and race day will expose you mercilessly.

This year, however, I’ve gone one step further. Because apparently 26.2 miles wasn’t humbling enough, I’ve signed up for the Manchester to Liverpool 50-mile ultra marathon. Fifty. Miles.

If there was ever a comforting voice whispering that I could coast on past experience, it has now been firmly silenced. I’ve never run 50 miles in one go. The furthest I’ve ever managed is 32, and I felt like death afterwards. This will take discipline, consistency, and a level of commitment that can’t be faked.

Then there’s Christmas weight.

As is tradition, I gained more than I care to admit. I winced when the scales revealed I’m hovering near 80kg, the heaviest I’ve been since leaving ministerial training college. Most of my clothes have staged a quiet protest, and several well-meaning friends have asked if I’ve “put on a bit of weight.” As if this news might somehow come as a surprise.

For context: when I ran the London Marathon in 2024, I weighed just under 60kg.

Much like my car, I am overdue a full service. I need clearing out, tuning up, and a renewed bill of health. This has become something of an annual ritual.

So, with the new year comes the familiar routine: stricter diet, daily runs, strength work, and a renewed focus on physical maintenance. This year, I’m not just ready for it, I think my body has been begging for it since mid-December.

But here’s the thing: physical health alone isn’t enough.

I’m grateful for the discipline of an annual reset, but I don’t want fitness to be my only form of devotion. This year, I want a more holistic approach, one that focuses on three areas: physical health, spiritual health, and conscious reflection.

Physical

Ironically, January, often labelled the most depressing month of the year, tends to be one of my best. Running gives me purpose. It boosts my mood, sharpens my focus, and reminds me that I can do hard things. As my body changes, so does my confidence. While some people are understandably concerned by the lengths I go to in training, I genuinely love it.

Spiritual

That said, physical training must never come at the expense of spiritual health. The apostle Paul puts it perfectly in 1 Timothy 4:8:

“Physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.”

Recently, I committed to reading 30 chapters of Scripture a day. I managed this through Old Testament and the Gospels but slowed down in the Epistles, intentionally. I realised I was rushing and missing too much. I’ve proven I can show up daily; now I want to show up well. This year, my focus is organised, prayerful, and reflective reading, seeking understanding and application, not just progress.

Reflective

One of the great lies of modern life is that we’re “too busy.” In reality, we’re just distracted. Screens compete relentlessly for our attention, leaving little room to stop and reflect.

Comedian Jimmy Carr has often joked that we are living in the best time in human history, yet subjectively, many of us feel like everything is terrible. We’ve become numb to our blessings.

I have three children. A hundred years ago, it would have been normal to assume at least one wouldn’t survive infancy. Today, that’s the exception, not the expectation. Hot showers? A luxury humanity has only enjoyed for a tiny fraction of its existence. Think about that next time you turn the tap.

On a personal level, I have job security, a wonderful wife, three beautiful children, and no anxiety about my next meal. By global standards, I am incredibly wealthy. And yet, I still slip into a “woe is me” mindset far too easily.

This year, I want to practise gratitude intentionally, through daily journalling and recording the things I’m thankful for. Even on hard days. Especially on hard days. Sometimes gratitude starts as small as reminding yourself that, no matter what else is going wrong, a hot shower is still an extraordinary thing.

So yes, my car is going in for its MOT later this week. And on January 2nd, I’ll be starting my own.

Bad habits will be stripped away. Priorities will be refocused. I’ll share my weight on New Year’s Day and again on February 1st, because accountability matters. I’ll lose the weight not just for the race, but for the Samaritans Purse, who I’m running for, and for everyone who has supported and sponsored me.

As you step into the new year, I encourage you to reflect:
What does a reset look like for you?
What needs servicing?
Where do you need accountability?

Set goals. Commit to them. Stick with it.

There is nothing noble about being superior to others.
True nobility is being superior to your former self.

Happy New Year.