Marathon Man

by Rob Young

  At home everyone was full of sympathy. ‘You’ve done so well, Rob,’ they kept saying as if it was all over. It wasn’t. I could get back, I knew it. The experts didn’t know me, they didn’t know my body. They knew only the average for all people, and that wasn’t me. By staying positive, I knew I would recover quicker than any statistics could predict. So that was that for a while: rest and recover. I visited a few schools and gave some talks, which was great, as the kids helped to keep me positive. It was a tough time all in all, but I made the most of it. I got to hang out with Alexander and to see much more of Joanna, which helped make things better between us now I finally had some time to be with her.

  It was around then that I learned about the upcoming Race Across USA marathon series which took place every year. The 2015 event started in January, and would take a group of runners on a four-and-a-half-month journey from one side of America all the way to the other, from sea to shining sea. It would mean 117 back-to-back marathons, all of them official. The event also aimed to raise awareness and funds for a fantastic organisation, the 100 Marathon Club, which was set up to combat childhood obesity by encouraging children in the United States to exercise more.

  I wanted to run in that race, but wasn’t sure if it would be possible to make the necessary arrangements. It was coming up soon and I’d need a visa and sponsorship. Then there was Joanna. She’d probably hit the roof if I disappeared to another country for the best part of five months, but I couldn’t get the idea of it out of my head. Thinking about it gave me something to work towards – but first I had to fix my legs. Even after just a few days’ rest and use of the Game Ready machine, I was feeling better and the swelling in my leg had gone down considerably. Soon I would be ready to put some weight on it.

  While all this was going on, I attended the BBC Sports Personality of the Year presentation evening, thanks to Carl Doran. That was quite a night and took my mind off the problems I was facing. Ali and I dressed up to the nines and spent the evening having selfies with the great and the good of the sporting world. I even met Eddie Izzard there, who had famously once run 43 marathons in 51 days. The first thing I said to him was, ‘Wow, your skin looks amazing, how do you get it like that?’ Then he came alive. He pretty much did a one-man skincare sketch for the next few minutes. What a funny, funny guy! It beats talking about running anyway. Can you imagine how many conversations I have to have about that?

  On our way out at the end of the night, after plenty of beers, Ali and I somehow ended up on a coach with the women’s rugby team, instead of getting a taxi. We’d been invited back to their hotel. I couldn’t believe they knew the words to the rugby songs they were singing on that coach. Then it was my turn. Reluctantly (with a capital R) I sang my standard. ‘I love you baby, and if it’s quite all right, I think that maybe . . .’ Fortunately, they all joined in to help me out. Then it was bags of chips and back to their hotel, not for anything saucy, I might add. I can imagine the headlines now:

  MARATHON MAN UK BEDS HOOKER

  The following day I spoke to Pippa about an anti-gravity treadmill I might be able to use. I had heard about them being used by Mo Farah and other athletes to come back from injury. They used NASA ‘unweighting’ technology to allow recuperating athletes to run with only a fraction of their weight going through their legs. As you become stronger you can adjust the percentage of weight you are bearing, until eventually you are back running under normal conditions again. I believed that the sooner I was running again the better, even if it was on some kind of futuristic treadmill. Pippa told me they had one in the changing room at Twickenham rugby ground, the home of the Rugby Football Union, but she thought it would be next to impossible to get permission to use it. She and Dr Kipps said they’d try for me, which was all I wanted to hear.

  And, as always, Pippa came through. So somehow, someway, on 9 December, a little over two weeks since my last run, I found myself being strapped into a space-age treadmill in the hallowed heart of Twickenham. It’s testament to my team’s resourcefulness that a plodder like me had got access to this thing, which they believed would be able to accelerate my recovery by as much as three weeks.

  The first time I used the anti-gravity treadmill, I ran 5km on about 20 per cent of my bodyweight, the second time I ran 20km and the third day I ran a full marathon on it. Dr Kipps had urged me to build up slowly over the next few weeks, but I just didn’t have time for that. By 18 December I was out running unaided again. It was just a short 5km jog to ease back into things, and everything felt fine.

  The next day I ran a half marathon and the day after that, on 20 December, just 23 days after stopping my challenge, I was able to run another marathon. My legs felt great and as far as I was concerned I’d recovered fully. Of course my medical team had urged caution and wanted me to wait longer. Pippa had suggested I run 10km that day, but I knew I could do more. I ran the full Thames Meander marathon course instead and felt pretty good.

  Of course my body had slipped back and it was no longer the running machine it once was. It had embraced the easy life for the previous three weeks and was lazy and resistant to effort. I was back on that difficult curve, whipping it into shape. In a month’s time it would be trained up again and ready for anything.

  My goal now was to run more than the 366 marathons/ultras in a year that Ricardo Abad had achieved. At that point I had run 242 marathons in 251 days, so I was behind schedule, but as long as I remained fit I knew I could do it. I’d only need to run a few double marathons to get back on course.

  Marathon Man UK was back!

  I went down to the south coast for the Portsmouth marathon the next day. It was a hard race and I felt sluggish. It would take a lot of miles before I would be back to optimum fitness, but I got through it, completing the race in 4 hours 8 minutes. With the Race Across USA series on the horizon, I knew I had to put extra miles in to be fit and ready for it. So after the race I went out for another ten miles on my own. I just felt that’s what was needed to get my body into condition again.

  It was nearing Christmas and good will was in the air – an ideal time to speak to Joanna about the Race Across USA series, I thought. It was a tough conversation. She could see why it would be good for me and what I was trying to achieve, but she didn’t want me to go. She was concerned about the effect it would have on our relationship – I wasn’t being a father or a husband. I told her I couldn’t give up now, and nor could we. I had to finish the challenge and this was the best way to do that. The Race Across USA would effectively give me a support team for the rest of my challenge and help me to the finish line. I knew it was my best option at that time and something I had to try to join.

  Fortunately, and typically, in the end Joanna gave me her blessing, and I started to put the wheels in motion to join the RAUSA team in January. It meant a lot of hustling and organising. I needed to get funding and to know Joanna and Buddy would be OK without me. She decided to go back to Poland to stay with her mum for a while; Buddy loved it there and they could live cheaply and well. It was a good plan and would mean I didn’t have to worry about them too much.

  Then I had the small matter of raising the money to enter the race, which, including flights and everything else, came to about £10,000. I got some money through from my sponsor, Sense Core, which covered most of it. Then two local sponsors, who wish to remain anonymous, stepped forward to help me with the rest. I couldn’t have done it without them and am incredibly grateful to them both for their generosity (they know who they are). Ricky, from Up & Running in Sheen, got me some kit from Salomon and Brooks to take to America, too. Not for the first or last time, he came to my rescue (as did the guys at Sheen Sports, too.)

  It was getting very cold in the UK at that time and that was taking some getting used to. Running on Christmas Day was a first for me, too. It wasn’t easy finding someone to join me for that run, I can tell you. Pulling crackers, watching end-of-year quiz shows and eating turkey and Christmas pudding was all anyone wan
ted to do. And I couldn’t blame them. Hopefully that would be me next year.

  On Boxing Day I messed up. I was running downstairs at Ali’s place, in too much of a hurry, when I clattered into an open door. My left foot, protected by only a sock, smashed into the leading edge of the door. It was a really violent collision and I lay on the floor in agony. Eventually, I took my sock off and looked at the damage. I couldn’t touch my little toe or the one next to it. I hopped down the stairs, furious with myself for being so stupid.

  Joanna was there at the time but apart from her I didn’t tell anyone in the team what had happened. Instead, I went out and ran that day’s marathon, which wasn’t easy. My time for that marathon shows how tough I found it. It took me over five hours (I’d completed one the day before in less than four) and by the end of that day my toes were red and swollen and I went to the local hospital to have them checked out. They soon confirmed what I suspected: I had a fracture in the bone just above the toes and two small fractures, one in my little toe and one in the toe next to it. Of course I was told to rest, but I knew how to take care of them. I iced them when I could and otherwise just got on with the running. They were sore for a couple of weeks, but after that they were fine. To be honest, it was only during the first few miles of a marathon that they were sore at all, then they just became numb.

  I continued to push hard in my Richmond Park marathons through that last week of the year, trying to get back into peak fitness. The other runners in the Race Across USA series sounded fit, experienced and capable. I felt like I needed to be at my very best in order to be able to live with them. It wasn’t until 29 December that I was able to run two marathons in a day, and that felt good. My legs were getting stronger again, more resilient. I could feel the progress.

  I had two official marathons in Liverpool, the Liverbird marathons, to help me see in the New Year. One was on New Year’s Eve and the other on New Year’s Day. I would be meeting up with my good friend and fellow runner Adam Holland and our buddy Graham Clarke for the races.

  The first run on New Year’s Eve was a good one for me. It was a flat course up and down the Otterspool promenade in Merseyside a few times. With almost zero elevation it was a chance for a quick but steady run, and I managed a time of 3 hours 29 minutes. Adam won the race with a time of 2 hours 38 minutes, making me look a bit ordinary, while Graham came in shortly after me. That night we’d managed to find a self-contained flat in the heart of Liverpool. It was New Year’s Eve, so despite having a race the next day, we decided to go out and enjoy ourselves. We all knew it would probably get a bit out of hand, which it duly did.

  None of us was used to drinking, especially Adam and me. We almost never drank, and especially not before or after a race, but that night we went for it. We were drinking cocktails followed by wine and beer – whatever we could get our hands on. Whatever had the highest alcohol content, that’s what we ordered. It was ridiculous, really.

  Graham and I took it upon ourselves to try to find Adam a girlfriend that night, which meant embarrassing him and ourselves in front of several groups of girls. Then came the sambuca. I don’t know whose idea that was, but it turned out to be the final straw for Adam. Moments after necking it, he disappeared out of the bar and threw up all over the pavement. It was truly torrential. I felt bad for him as he had to run a marathon the next day. Happy New Year!

  By about 3am, we returned to our apartment and Adam and Graham crashed out within seconds of hitting their beds. I went to the toilet to put my finger down my throat to make myself sick, but nothing wanted to come out so I accepted defeat and went to bed. The next morning we woke late and rushed around the apartment trying to find clean clothes. It was chaos. Eventually we got ourselves together and out of the apartment to head off to the race. On the way we passed a McDonald’s and popped in to grab a coffee and a couple of burgers.

  At the race start Adam looked as white as a ghost, like he was in a state of shock. Poor guy. That night he’d probably drunk as much alcohol as he had in the entire year before that. I remember him eating a Mars bar at the start line and looking like death. I thought he would struggle to finish that race – I knew I would. But he didn’t look in any condition to do anything remotely athletic – not even a game of frisbee, let alone a marathon.

  When the race gun went off, Adam responded like the champion he is. The course looped back on itself repeatedly, so we passed each other several times, with him in the lead and me way back. Every time we saw each other we shook our heads at each other as if to say ‘Never again!’ After drinking way beyond his limits and projectile vomiting only a few hours earlier, Adam won that race in a time of 2 hours 57 minutes. That’s got to be some sort of record for a drunken athlete, surely. I, on the other hand, would need over five hours to get around the course. It was awful. I can only repeat what I said earlier: ‘Never again!’

  I was due to leave for America on 14 January. So those first two weeks of the year were spent getting things in order. Joanna and Buddy had their tickets booked to go back to Poland later in January. Ali and I had booked tickets out to America (he would be there just for the first couple of days to help me get settled in) and my visa was on its way.

  It was a stressful time for me and some cracks began to form in my relationship with Ali at that time. Little things became magnified during those weeks leading up to my departure. He had worked hard for months to make a lot of things happen for me outside of the running and I was grateful for that, but it had taken its toll on him, I think, and he knew that. Now he wanted to step back a little and spend more time with his family, who he’d probably neglected while he’d been making me his priority. I didn’t want that for him anymore. He and his family had done so much for my whole family, opening up their home to us when we were most in need. It was time for the Parkes family to get their lives back, and for me to make more decisions on my own.

  Before we left I had a couple of tests to see how far I’d come, how fit I was and how ready I was for this race across America: the Trailscape South marathon in Kent on Saturday 10 January was followed by the Martello Marathon on Sunday, also in Kent. The Trailscape South marathon was a challenge, largely because I got lost again. Then there was an electric fence that a group of us got stuck behind, which none of us could work out how to open. We spent ages trying to figure it out before somebody showed us – at least we didn’t electrocute ourselves. I spent six-and-a-half hours out on those trails – some of it actually running and on the right course, too. Still, I got around and had some laughs with other runners despite the frustrations of the day.

  The following day’s race, the Martello marathon, was a good one. Flat and simple, with no chance of getting lost or electrocuted (barring a freak lightning strike), I went flat out for the first ten miles to see what I could do and then eased right back after that. My time of 3 hours 22 minutes told me I was race ready. I’d got back to where I needed to be and finally felt confident about going to the United States to race. When I returned home that evening, I went straight out to the park to run another marathon. That second marathon really took it out of me and I ended up resting the following day, which was fine. I knew that once things got underway in America there’d be no chance for a break, so this was a good moment to take a breather.

  I spent the day with Joanna and Buddy. It was my last chance to pause from all the running and say goodbye. Once I got to America I wouldn’t see them again for a couple of months at least. We didn’t do anything special, just kicked around the house for most of the day and went to the park, but we got to chat and take some time, which we both needed. I hoped she’d find a way to come out to visit me in America, but didn’t know how that would happen exactly.

  I was going to miss the pair of them in the coming months, that was for sure. There would be no home comforts, no hugs before getting back on the road again, but this was the home straight and nothing would distract me from finishing what I’d started. The next day I ran a double marathon on the Ri
chmond Park course. I was almost back to marathon-a-day status again – running my 275th marathon/ultra on my 276th day of the challenge. I felt strong and confident.

  Marathon Man UK was ready for America and hopefully it was ready for me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Taking on America

  14 January–23 February 2015

  At Heathrow, Ali being Ali managed to sweet-talk the British Airways crew into giving us a free upgrade. So it was first-class all the way to LAX, which didn’t hurt. On that first day in Los Angeles, we took a taxi from the airport out to West Hollywood to see a chiropractor who had been recommended to us. He was a bit of a celebrity healer and had treated all the movie stars and the top athletes in his day. Somebody in the team had put us onto him and it seemed like a good idea to get a tune-up before the racing began. He clicked my spine and I felt a bit lighter after the session and my shoulders a little looser.

  It was late afternoon by the time we got out of the clinic and realised we didn’t have a room booked for that night. We wheeled our bags around the block looking for a motel, but Ali didn’t like the look of what was on offer, so we kept walking. It was an exciting adventure to be in a foreign country, not sure what might be around the next corner. Ali was grinning from ear to ear; he was a big kid just like me. Eventually, we got chatting to a couple of guys outside a gym and the next thing we knew they were offering us to sleep in their gym for the night. I’d slept in caves, under slides in children’s playgrounds and in a dozen half-assembled tents, so a night on a yoga mat in a gym sounded like five-star accommodation to me. Ali was reluctant at first, but he went along with it after a little persuasion.