There can be few finer ways to spend a Saturday, than rising at dawn and preparing yourself for a 12-mile run through thick mud with 24 SAS designed obstacles thrown in for good measure.

To set the scene, I should explain that in my childhood days, ingenious plans have been devised to enable me to avoid any sort of physical exercise or exertion. Famous for holding the record for most consecutive years spent handing out the oranges on sports day and taking no part whatsoever in the proceedings and not one sporting achievement, however minor, to my name. I don’t recall even owning a pair of trainers during my teenage years let alone showing any interest in anything designed to increase the heart rate. Ball skills were not my strength and I have a vague recollection of almost phoning Childline when signed up, against my will to a gymnastics class.

I’m not a competitive person, I don’t feel the drive to beat anyone at anything. Or at least I didn’t until first entering the London marathon five years ago specifically because a colleague had done it and done rather well. How strange to feel the stirrings of competitiveness: if he can do it, I’m pretty sure I could give him a run for his money. From that point on, much to the hilarity of everyone who had known me during the sloth years, I have become a different person.

Over the last few years, there has been an explosion in participation of sport, especially in the more ‘mature.’ Almost everyone knows a MAMAL; a middle-aged-man-in-lycra, who has taken up cycling and now spends every waking moment comparing chain sets and tri-bars. Every year more and more people enter the ballot to win a place for the London marathon and there are adverts for half marathons, fun runs and cycle races on almost every street corner. Now it seems there is a new kid on the exercise block- the extreme assault course. Enter the Tough Mudder!!

A feet of marketing genius, the first surprise is the cost, as sky high as some of the obstacles. Billed as probably the toughest race on the planet, it is designed to appeal to adrenaline junkie who divides their spare time between pumping iron and watching WWE wrestling after 10 pints of Red Bull and a protein shake chaser.

And so I found myself standing at the start line with my team whose collective age probably approached 500 years, pumped up and chanting the rules of Tough Mudder accompanied by The Eye of the Tiger and surrounded by a selection of testosterone fuelled warriors in fancy dress. Nobody said it was going to be easy, the first obstacle was total immersion in a skip full of muddy ice water to start us on our way for the 12 miles ahead.

After crawling under barbed wire and through live electrical wires, scrambling through water-filled tunnels and being hoisted over 10 foot walls, the running seemed like the easy bit. The mud, which may well have been created by the biblical storm the previous day, was ankle deep most of the way and knee deep at worst. No room for a squeamish temperament, it was get stuck in or get out.

What I hadn’t anticipated was just how incredible it feels to push yourself in something that seems impossible.

The race is actually not a race but an altruistic act of teamwork. Complete strangers were helping each other and encouraging when it got difficult, and difficult it got. I was forced to face my demons after arriving at the obstacle that involved launching yourself off a 8m platform into a cold muddy pit; which rather unsurprisingly, I found somewhat of a challenge. The feeling of overcoming your fear is worth the entrance fee alone.

As if to add insult to injury, the final 20m dash to the finish line was through hanging live electric wires and I can now report that electrocution is at the bottom of my list of fun things to do on a Saturday morning. Despite all this, we all did it.

Every finisher was handed a pint as a badge of honour and I spent the rest of the weekend basking in my new found bravery and marvelling at what incredible people I had met along the way.