The test showed a double red stripe. It was positive. In a little less than 270 days I was to begin the biggest endurance event I had ever entered, setting out on the ultra-distance challenge of fatherhood. With my pregnancytest ticket in hand, I felt like an imposter. Very little attention seemed to have been given to the curriculum of the applicants. Entry, at least, was initially free. Once it began I was assured there would be regular installments for its duration. Course length was unspecified. Time spent participating was rewarded far more highly than setting a new course record. And there were no drink stops. No medals. No sponsorship. Just relentless rounds of broken sleep, early baths and an “I love daddy” t-shirt decorated with tears and a sprinkling of vomit.