401
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JUNE 2016 IN NUMBERS
Marathons: 20
Miles run: 548.1 (average per day: 27.4)
Running time: 111:03.18 hours (average per day: 5:33.09)
Number of people run with: 358
Distance personal bests: 41
First marathons/ultra-marathons: 19
Pints of cider: 15
Flat whites: 30
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DAYS 297–316: Kyle joins me for two weeks, which really helps, and I pass the 300-marathon mark in John o’Groats, on the way from Duncansby Head to Dunnet Head. There isn’t a massive reception or anything, just a few people I’d run with before, but it’s a big symbolic moment. The view of the Orkney Isles is simply stunning, and looking out to sea, I remember how I felt in Land’s End, 260 days earlier, and how far away from my goal I seemed back then.
Travelling back down the A9 towards Inverness again, it feels like I’m almost on the home straight. To Ullapool for day 307, and we also visit Achiltibuie, one of the UK’s most isolated places, which overlooks Badentarbet Bay to the west, Loch Broom and the Summer Isles to the south. More importantly, a young lad running with me completes his first marathon that day. It’s back to Strathpeffer for day 308, then onto Drumnadrochit, running on the amazing but hilly Great Glen Way. After arriving in Fort William, I run part of the Caledonian Canal, before a guy from Mountain Rescue leads me through the foothills of Ben Nevis. The whole time I’m thinking: ‘Dad! What the hell have you done?’ But, my God, I’m glad I did it. On to the magical Glencoe, where a wild stag eats food out of my hand, we have to negotiate fields filled with cows and scramble over electric fences. Along the West Highland Way, I see where scenes from the James Bond film Skyfall were filmed and Jim and Trish, who have planned my route that day, present me with a tuxedo T-shirt, a Martini and a toy Aston Martin.
I run 70 days in Scotland throughout the Challenge, and about 2000 miles. Not only that, but 25 people join me to run ultra-marathons for the first time, because that’s almost all I was doing after my back injury. When, for whatever reason, running clubs don’t extend the route as we’d asked them to do, I just do loops and pick up guys at the back, so I’m still getting the extra miles in. This also means I get to run with everybody, so it fits the project perfectly. But there’s no getting away from the fact that Scotland has turned into a tough old slog. My back hurts like hell, I’m tired, I’ve got a cold, I look like crap and I walk a lot of it, because it’s incredibly hilly and basically off-road. I’m grumpy, I don’t want to talk to anybody and just want to go home.
Dad is contacting running clubs to let them know the state I’m in, telling them I’ve got a back issue and that the main goal is just to get me to the end, but I get the feeling some clubs want to test me. I always run what I’m given, but it takes me to the absolute limit. Having just crossed the Erskine Bridge, and the day before my run to Port Glasgow on day 316, I finally take the trimmer to my beard in Greenock. I feel like crap, look a mess and have become convinced I’m scaring kids. Maybe it’s a sub-consciously symbolic gesture of purification. On the downside, I now look like a 12-year-old.
Chapter 12
A Very Wonderful Adventure
When I put a video out announcing that pre-registration is open for the 401st and final marathon, it isn’t like I can see the finish line, but at least it feels like there is one. We actually started planning marathon number 401 at about the 250 mark, and it was Kyle and Tolu who did most of the work. We decided we were going to hold a big event in Bristol, but big events mean insurance and licences and council approval, as well as balloons and inflatables. When it became apparent that an event of that size would cost a hell of a lot of money – when the whole point was to raise money, not spend it – we decided to make the live event secondary and a virtual event the primary focus in the hope that we’d get thousands of people running with us and raising money on that final day, all over the world.
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Anji Andrews, kindred spirit: At first, I didn’t even know why Ben was doing what he was doing, I was just interested in this guy who wanted to push himself to the limit. I work for Allison Curbishley and Steve Cram’s events company, and the first time I met Ben was on his birthday, when he was running in Durham. My husband Paul ran just over half of the marathon with him, while I only ran about three miles, because I had a bit of an ankle injury. I was doing a bit of fundraising myself, for a friend who had recently died of cancer at the age of 36, and was selling wristbands with his name on – ‘Run for Marcus’. I asked Ben if he’d wear one, and he wore it for the rest of the Challenge, which I thought was a special thing to do.
Every time he was in my area, I was either at work or had other commitments, but I kept an eye on him. My dad had been unwell with cancer for a couple of years, before eventually declining over a short space of time. The day he died was the same day Ben announced he’d had to halt the Challenge because of his back injury. I shared Ben’s video with friends and they must have thought: ‘This is a bit weird, her dad’s just died and she’s sharing videos about this guy she hardly knows.’ But I really connected with Ben that day, because I was suffering all this pain, while he had made this huge decision. And when Ben sent me a message of consolation, that was such a massive thing for me, because he had all of this bad stuff going on.
In the weeks after I lost my dad, I did a lot of running. Running doesn’t heal everything, but it gives you time to work things out, or not if you don’t want to. My dad would have understood that, because he was a very fit and active person before he got cancer. And I remember thinking: ‘As soon as the Challenge restarts, I’m going to run a marathon with Ben.’ Things were just so dark and difficult, I needed something positive to get involved in. Eventually I did go and do one of Ben’s marathons, in Leeds on day 340, with my husband Paul. And I always say that in such a dark year, in which I lost my good friend and my dad, that day in Leeds was a ray of light.
Running with Ben was like a counselling session on the hoof. I had a long conversation with him about my loss, because I knew he’d understand. After about 22 miles, my calf seized up, and Ben said: ‘There is a shortcut back, Anji. Nobody will judge you if you don’t do the full distance.’ I thought: ‘No chance. Absolutely not.’ The last words my dad ever said to me were: ‘Never, ever give up.’ So I said to Ben: ‘This is one of those moments where I’m going to draw on what my dad told me.’ I walked the rest of the way, but I finished it.
That day helped change my outlook on running. I’d always been super-competitive, everything had always been about times. But running has become more a form of therapy for me. That day in Leeds was by far the slowest marathon I’ve ever done – but it was one of my biggest achievements. You don’t have to run fast, it’s about what it means to you.
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JULY 2016 IN NUMBERS
Marathons: 31
Miles run: 871.8 (average per day: 28.1)
Running time: 177:35.00 hours (average per day: 5:43.43)
Number of people run with: 672
Distance personal bests: 152
First marathons/ultra-marathons: 58
Pints of cider: 16
Flat whites: 31
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401 MARATHON MAN RUNS ROUTE WITH SETTLE HARRIERS
CRAVEN HERALD, 9 AUGUST 2016
‘…Twenty-four runners, aged from nine to 64, accompanied Ben for various parts of the route, with three runners accompanying him for the full distance…’
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DAYS 317–345: In Hull, on day 343, a lovely guy called Lucas Meagor, who I met the last time I was running in the area in January, organises two marathons for me. We start at the Italia Conti school, run through the foyer, and end up going over the Humber Bridge. They actually close down one of the lanes and we run through a toll booth!
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Day 345 in Scunthorpe, which I thought would be quiet, turns out to be our busiest day so far. An incredible 278 people come out to run and reporters and TV crews are now a common sight. This adds another dynamic. Journalists have started turning up unannounced and I’m having to do interviews before I start running, which can potentially push everything out of sync. As such, it’s becoming more and more difficult to keep control of events. But it would be churlish to complain. We’ve worked so hard to build interest, so it’s nice that they are starting to think that I might actually do it. All those thousands of testimonials we asked for, which have been sent out to the media, are starting to have another effect: rather than it simply being a story about some madman running 401 marathons in 401 days, it’s become a lot more textured.
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Mandy Newton, Ben’s heroine: I didn’t know the details of Ben’s story until quite a bit later – about the bullying, the depression, the attempts on his own life. He really was in a bad place. I’ve got a beautiful family and they’re my inspiration, the reason I get up every day. But I do remember that when I was a teenager, I didn’t feel I had much to live for, either. So I don’t judge people, I just think how awful it must be to feel that low and that empty.
We’re both labelled and pre-judged before people have even spoken to us. People can see my ‘difference’, because I’m in a wheelchair. Some people can’t work out if I have learning disabilities, so they’ll decide not to talk to me. Other times, they will talk to the people I’m with rather than to me. People can’t see Ben’s sexuality, but when they find out, they expect it to define him. But he is who he is, an amazing person, regardless of his sexuality. I learnt from Ben that you shouldn’t be afraid of being yourself, whatever you are; to banish doubts; always follow your dreams. It doesn’t matter what your background is, what colour you are, what your sexuality is, what your apparent abilities or disabilities are, just be who you are and be proud of that.
Our backgrounds don’t seem alike, but there is a real overlap in our experiences. Because Ben tried to take his own life, he knows more than most people how precious life is. Doing the Challenge must have made him think: ‘Friggin’ Nora, thank God I didn’t succeed in killing myself, because look what I’m doing now!’ He didn’t stay in that pit, he somehow mustered the strength to crawl out of it and do the amazing things he’s doing now. And because he’s so human, he gives hope to everybody. Sometimes people say to me: ‘You’ve never hit rock bottom, because you’ve never wanted to give up or kill yourself.’ But I was in the same boat as Ben. My accident came at a very bad time in my children’s lives. My little one had just started secondary school, another had just started GCSEs and another was doing his A-levels, and they really resented me for a while. One of them actually said: ‘I hate my new mum, I want my old mum back.’
I was an avid runner, but couldn’t do that anymore after the accident. It was Sod’s Law – the one thing I would have done to help me deal with a dreadful situation was the one thing I now couldn’t do. Ben used to tell me that whenever he was having dark moments during the Challenge, he would think of me and how lucky he was that he could run at all. But thank God I didn’t die in that accident, because I’ve still got so much to live for. My children are blown away by me now, they can’t believe the things that I do. One of them said to me recently: ‘Mum, we’re on a very wonderful adventure with you…’
I saw Ben again at the Brighton Marathon, when I fell out of my wheelchair trying to hug him. Ben was shouting: ‘Help her! Help her! Get her back up!’ He’s just so human, so comfortable in his own skin. What you see is what you get, which is a real irony when you think about how he hid who he really was for so long. He’s a very special man and has had a massive impact on me. I’m so glad I had the privilege of meeting him and can call him a true friend.
Nick Dransfield, Ben’s running brother: Almost every day he’d have people shaking his hands and crying on him, saying: ‘I never thought I’d do a marathon, and today I’ve done one.’ People would rock up and say: ‘I gave up smoking a few weeks ago, just to come along and run with you for five or 10km.’ We’d be like, ‘Really? OK, let’s see how this goes…’ To have that sort of effect on people is astonishing. He acted as a bridge to a better life, and I used to joke that he was the Jesus of running, going around the country preaching: ‘Look, you can do it if you really want it enough!’ Sure enough, lots of people did.
I’d never done back-to-back marathons before I did them with him. People were telling me I was mad, but I said: ‘This guy’s done hundreds, surely I can do five!’ In fact, that could have been his motto: ‘If I’ve done 401 marathons, surely you can do one!’ Running helped me lose weight, made me healthier and I always enjoyed the competitive aspect of it. It was a way of showing my kids that physical activity is a good thing. But Ben has changed my focus, he just has that effect on people. He’s made me think more about giving back. I’ve got into pacing at official events, big races like the Liverpool Marathon. I like marshalling, helping other runners out, assisting in any way I can. I think it’s fair to say that Ben has made me less selfish.
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RUNNER BACK IN BRISTOL FOR 371st MARATHON
BRISTOL EVENING POST,
6 SEPTEMBER 2016
‘…I’ve been counting down the days. It has been a crazy one, and it’ll be nice to be back home…’
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DAYS 346–372: My visit to RAF Cranwell on day 346 is emotional. It’s the home of officer training, not far from Lincoln, and a place very close to Dad’s heart. I run around the airbase a few times, and at the very end the cadets give me a guard of honour; I run up the steps of the officers’ building, which people aren’t normally allowed to do, and at the top I’m greeted by the Air Commodore. My dad is there and I can see how proud he is of me. The RAF was such a big part of his life, so it means a lot to him, and therefore to me. And because I can see he’s emotional, I’m emotional, too. People often ask me who my hero is, and I always say it’s Dad. So to be able to give him that experience means a lot.
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AUGUST 2016 IN NUMBERS
Marathons: 31
Miles run: 878.1 (average per day: 28.3)
Running time: 190:37.34 hours (average per day: 6:08.57)
Number of people run with: 1625
Distance personal bests: 308
First marathons/ultra-marathons: 120
Pints of cider: 16
Flat whites: 31
On to Manchester for the final time on day 352, then back into Wales. Wales isn’t a place I have explored much, but definitely somewhere I want to go back to. The people are friendly and supportive – I was never on my own – and the scenery, especially around the outside of the country, is spectacular. But much as I love Wales, I’m counting down the days to crossing the Severn Bridge and getting back to Bristol, before I leave again for the final backwards-shaped C that will bring me back home for days 400 and 401. When I do return to Bristol for the first time in 372 days, it’s wonderful to be home, but there are more practical reasons for returning: we’ve made the decision to move back to Portishead, so Kyle has had to commute from Preston to look at flats. The problem is, nobody will let us put a rental deposit down on anything because I need to view the properties as well and, obviously, I’ve been out running. Even though we explain our rather bizarre circumstances, it falls on deaf ears – so now, on top of everything else, I’m having to go flat hunting!
The 401 Challenge is coming to what we hope will be a memorable end, but I’m still having to deal with everything that normal people living normal lives have to deal with. The plan is to leave Bristol, curve down into Hampshire and run along the south coast, before coming back to Bristol for the final couple of days. And people are saying to me: ‘When it gets to 20 days to go, you’ll be able to start the final countdown.’ And I’ll say: ‘What if s
omeone told you that tomorrow, they were going to start running 20 marathons in 20 days? Would you think they were close to the finish line?! Of course not! You’d think they were mad.’
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PORTSMOUTH JOGGERS HELP MARATHON MAN BEN FINISH 392nd RUN
THE PORTSMOUTH NEWS,
27 SEPTEMBER 2016
‘…Those running included Irene Pollard, 73, who is battling breast cancer. She said: “Ben’s fantastic…”’
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DAYS 373–400: Fourteen days from the end, we’ve raised £160,000, but are still £90,000 short of our target, so it’s time for more pleas. So I put out another video, asking for more stories from people who have been involved with the Challenge, which we can then use to interest the media. I post a 401 Donut Challenge, asking people to attempt to eat a donut without licking their lips and donate a fiver if they can’t. Anything that might raise a few quid, I’ll do (although I can never quite do the Donut Challenge without licking my lips!).
In Southampton, on day 393, I’m interviewed by Heart Radio on the hoof, while in Winchester, on day 394, the kids from St Faith’s Primary School line part of the route. I’m proud to be asked to sound the klaxon to start the Bournemouth Marathon on day 398, which I’m running for the second time in the Challenge, and I’m back in Bristol for marathon 399. The good news is, we’ve finally found a new home and Kyle has already moved in. The bad news is, we’re going to have to sleep on the floor because I sold all my furniture and we don’t have any money to buy new stuff. That’s one way of staying grounded…