by Rob Young
The next morning we left the gym early before the first customers started to arrive. The sky was blue and the sun warm, even in the early hours of the morning. It made a nice change from the grey skies, cold and rain we’d been used to in London. We made our way over to a clinic in the city to have some medical tests done by Bryce Carlson and his team. Bryce was racing in the series, but was also its research director. An assistant professor of anthropology from the University of Purdue in Indiana, Bryce was interested in seeing what could be learned from all our exertions in the coming months.
So I had agreed to be subjected to a variety of tests before, during and after the race series. Bryce had organised quite a team for the task; alongside him he had experts in human biology, physiology, sports medicine and sports psychology, all determined to learn how we would cope with the five months of physical and mental stress we had ahead of us. That was what they called it anyway. Five months of running is all I would call it. After all, I wasn’t trying to put myself off before I’d even started.
Dr Aaron Baggish was part of the medical team. He was one of the heroes of the Boston marathon terrorist attack, an experience which had left its mark on him. Dan Liebermann was there too, an endurance-running specialist. These were top guys in their field. They measured us for various things, did heart scans and injected dye into my blood. I was a willing guinea pig, only too happy to be able to help these guys try to learn something useful out of our crazy bit of running.
I met some of the runners for the first time at that clinic, too, people who I hope will be lifelong friends. There was Bryce, of course, who was impressive in almost every way. Intelligent, open, warm and humble, he was all you could hope any human being to be. And then there was ‘Barefoot’ Alex Ramsey and Jup Brown. I was introduced to them, we had a handshake and hug, and it was like we were old friends right away. It was uncanny – I guess we all had something in common, so there was no time needed to get to know each other. We could have stayed all night talking; we’d read about each other online and now we were face to face, so there seemed like so much we wanted to say.
Eventually, we went to the hotel where we were being put up that night and to the race presentation there that evening. It was great to meet everyone at last: the runners, the support crew, the faces who’d become so familiar in the coming months. For the next hour or so, we were introduced to the key personnel and briefed on the race itself and what we should expect. It was all very exciting.
The next morning was race day 1. We assembled on Huntington Beach and the getting-to-know-you continued. All 12 core team members were there, those who were attempting to run the entire race series from coast to coast, as well as a few other runners, including those who were doing just the ten California marathons. We all paddled in the ocean, which was freezing. One of the runners, Patrick Sweeney, even had a swim, but he was the only one brave enough. Some guys bottled up a bit of Pacific water to pour out once we got to the Atlantic on the other side. I remember Patrick telling us how he liked to search for and find treasure along his runs, little toys and plastic shovels, all kinds of discarded stuff. He said he later gave them away to friends as awards, which we thought was a lovely idea.
The core team was a varied bunch, but each of us was as enthusiastic and excited as the next. Here’s a little introduction:
Newton Baker – the oldest of the group, he was celebrating his 73rd birthday on that very day. Newton was a wise, poetic and relaxed guy. He was really witty, too, and we’d have some great moments together in the coming weeks.
Nancy Bennett – the mother figure of the group, I grew to be really fond of her. She was a real Texan girl and tough with it, but she was always looking out for the best interests of the group, and if someone got low Nancy would always be there to help.
Jup Brown – the sweetest, funniest, most free-living guy of them all. He is up for any adventure that you might suggest. While he stuck around, he brought everyone together. He’d run the length of New Zealand and Japan before, so we knew he could put the miles in.
Bryce Carlson – he brought some academic scrutiny to the event which could only give it added credibility. He’s a top-quality endurance runner in his own right, too. He mellowed out in the second half of the race and, I think, started to live for the moment a bit more. We became closer for it and shared many happy, funny moments.
Steven Cooper – ‘Coop’ was a great guy and an intelligent one, too. His company serviced SpaceX and Tesla, doing things too advanced and technical for my little brain to comprehend. When the first man lands on Mars, Coop will be behind it.
Jessica Hardy – tough as nails. A bit like me, she likes to mess about but underneath is resilient as hell. She’s also very kind and loving, always looking out for those around her.
Chris Knodel – a war veteran and an all-round great guy. A bit of a fellow nut-case is Chris, and like me he wears a kilt sometimes.
Linda Mazenko – a really soft, loving lady who I respected a lot. However, she was also on the board of the event and somehow I think that put a barrier between us and the other athletes at times.
Alex Ramsey – Barefoot Alex is pure Hawaiian sunny vibes, as mellow and colourful as the tie-dye t-shirts his company makes and that he’s always wearing. No one could possibly say a bad word about this guy, least of all me. One love, always.
Patrick Sweeney – a very mellow Californian dude and a good runner, too. He’s laid back, down-to-earth and good to be around. We could all use being a little more like Patrick, I think.
Darren Van Soye – the race organiser as well as running the event alongside his wife, Sandy. His heart was in the right place and he was a really nice guy, but running in the event as well as being its main organiser might have put a little too much on his plate at times.
As you can imagine, this was a big day for us all and there was a real feel-good vibe on the beach. We posed for a few photographs and then it was toes-to-the-line time. Newton had been so impressed by Patrick’s story of finding cool little trophies in the sand that he was distracted, still looking for a memento of his own as we lined up for the start. Then his eyes lit up as he found something and picked it up. I thought it was hilarious that we were about to start this epic race and he was more intent on finding a bit of plastic on the beach, but the look of joy on his face when he found it was priceless.
I hadn’t run for a couple of days now, so I was keen to get going and to see what the rest of the field had in them. I had read that a few of the guys were sub-2.45 marathon runners, so I was interested to see if I could keep up. All the talk at the start of the race was about conservation of energy. Restraint was the key (apparently) to running 117 back-to-back marathons, but surely not if you wanted to win the thing. It was a race after all, and if there was a chance I could win the race series and be one of only a few Europeans to do so in the event’s history (since the 1920s) then that was my goal. I’d spent seven months running marathons without winning a single one, so maybe now was my chance.
The race got underway soon enough in the 70 degree heat. I went out pretty quick. A couple of runners gave me the impression they didn’t quite believe I could have run the number of marathons I had in the times I’d stated, so I wanted to let them know from the off I was for real. I led the race for the first few miles as we ran along the beach before turning left and running up beside the Santa Ana river. There were a fair few people out to wave and support us, so I loved that. The excitement of it all must have distracted me because, somehow, I managed to miss a right turning over the bridge. Even now I’m still not quite sure how that happened.
So, just a few miles into a 3,080-mile race, I was lost again, freewheeling down the LA sidewalk, heading who knows where. I ended up running into a dead end, thank goodness, otherwise I’ve no idea what would have happened. Then I turned back on myself and went looking for the race. Luckily for me, I soon noticed a couple of runners on the other side of the river. They motioned that I should get mys
elf back to the bridge I’d run past a mile or so before to rejoin the race on the right side of the river, which I soon managed to do.
So much for showing them all how quick I was. Or how intelligent. I think I might have let my country down a bit that day. Still, at least I found the route again and made steady progress. It was another loss of concentration for me and I finished in fourth place, but I had survived the first day and we were underway. There was plenty of time to make my mark on the event yet.
After our first marathon in the series, we drove out to Linda Mazenko’s home for a big slap-up dinner. It was both Newton and Patrick’s birthday that night so we had birthday cake, too. There was a happy vibe and we were all floating on this wave of optimism, but things wouldn’t always be this cosy in camp.
The next day was a big one as we got to pause in the middle of our marathon to visit the 100 Mile Club headquarters in Norco. I was excited to meet the kids and hear their stories. It was such a great initiative they had set up, something the UK would do well to replicate. The idea is simple: kids sign up to take part at their school and then for the rest of the year they have to run (or walk) a total of 100 miles at school, which is measured and verified by a teacher. They get rewards for hitting various goals on the way, and at the end of the year they get a certificate and that feeling of success and accomplishment that all children thrive on.
It cost only $10 per child to take part in the initiative, but not everyone in America has that, so our job was to raise some funds for those children to take part, as we ran through the country, as well as spread awareness about the initiative. Being part of that was a real privilege. I love hanging out with kids anyway, so this day was a real bonus. Logan was the epitome of the programme’s success. He ran his first 100 miles five years ago and every year since he had added another 100 miles to his year’s goal, so in 2015 he was running 500 miles for the year. That’s pretty impressive for a 14-year-old!
We had a great lunch with those guys before rejoining our marathon route to the finish. I got lost again, although just briefly this time, and I ended up finishing in first place that day. Although where I finish has always been the least important thing to me, it still felt good finally to win a marathon at my 277th attempt. I enjoyed that day, despite my ears getting a little singed in the hot weather. That night we went out for American pizza, which was the best!
The third day went well; I was finding my stride with the running and getting quicker. The scenery was breathtaking in an entirely different way to the UK. The huge skies and the ever-expanding landscape were something else. We were heading out towards the Joshua Tree National Park and I had heard the stars shone like diamonds out there. I was really looking forward to seeing that. As a bonus, this was also the day I learned that I was able to run faster than a car, too – or at least quicker than our support vehicle.
The way each day worked is we would get up early in the morning and ready ourselves for the race. We’d start running by about 8am, when the support vehicles would also set off, so they could set up the first-aid station at about mile 5-7 in the race. But I got there before they’d arrived. Apparently, I was running too fast for them to get there in time, as they couldn’t keep up in the traffic. They finally reached me at mile 17, by which time I’d already needed some tap water at a fast-food restaurant to keep me going. After they’d checked I was OK and given me some food, I carried on with the race. Then things got interesting; I got lost again. By the time I realised what I’d done, I was running on the wrong side of the Santa Ana river. I knew I had to get across the river to rejoin the race, but how? I should have turned back to find the small bridge that I’d clearly missed, but I noticed there was another one right in front of me. Only it was a railway bridge.
I had a good look up and down the track in both directions: nothing but silence. It must have been only a couple of hundred metres to the other side. I looked again up and down the track again: still clear. So I set off across the bridge, but soon worked out it was narrow with nowhere to hide if a train did come, so if that happened I’d have to jump in the river, which was a good 15m drop. I decided to hurry along.
Then I heard it – quiet at first, but getting louder in a hurry. I looked back, just once, to see the train far in the distance, so I sprinted as fast as I could. By now I could hear the lines whirring and the noise of the train growing behind me. It wasn’t far to the other side, but it seemed to take forever. Only a couple of seconds after I’d crossed the bridge and jumped to safety, the train flashed by going at some speed. I realised how stupid I’d been – that was far too close a shave for my liking.
I found the race again and was still in the lead. I’d taken a little detour there, and ended up running further than if I’d stayed on course. I came in first again, but later that evening the race directors spoke to me about how I was running. ‘You’re going too fast,’ Sandy Van Soye said. ‘We can’t crew you if you run that fast. We can’t catch up in time. You’re going to have to run with the other runners behind you.’
I was in a race but was being asked to run slower, which seemed crazy, but what other choice did I have? From then on, I ran a bit slower. I didn’t mind too much, but it did have an impact on my legs over the next week, almost like I was relearning how to run, because I was no longer running at my natural pace. So I just hung back and chatted with Juan Carlos Calderon, a really nice guy who was the second quickest runner at that point. He was a sheriff who was only doing the California leg of the race. Having to run slower meant I could go into shops to get drinks and ice creams for the guys and share it out with them en route, which I liked.
That evening was our first night’s camping and I hadn’t yet bought a tent. Fortunately, we all went to the Super Walmart in San Moreno where I managed to find one for the princely sum of $14. I can’t tell you the dollar/pound exchange rate at the time, but I’m sure that would have been a bargain even during the Gold Rush era. Now I was ready for anything.
We camped in the Lake Perris State Recreational Area that night. It was pretty epic. A skunk, who smelt even worse than us, came sniffing around at one point. Later, while we prepared our food on stoves by the tents, we could hear coyotes howling in the distance. This was the Wild West all right!
The next day was hot once the sun rose, but I didn’t mind. I was running well and everything felt good. We were heading off down Highway 10 now towards Palm Springs and the desert. I saw a couple of monster trucks by the road, as if to further remind me what country I was in. Sadly, when I asked the drivers wouldn’t let me get behind the wheel. That night we stayed in a hotel with a pool and a spa, so you can imagine how well that went down. Then it was out to dinner and a brief visit to a casino with the guys.
I took $20 with me and figured I had to have a gamble. I was a few hundred miles from Vegas, so I thought when in Rome . . . I sat at the blackjack table, which seemed to offer the best chance of success, other than blind luck. I don’t think I was doing anything exceptional, but before long I was winning and Jup and the rest of the guys were whooping up a storm. I was on a hot streak and everything was going my way. Pretty soon I had turned that $20 into $800! Someone told me that, as a non-US resident, if I won over $1,000 I’d start to lose a chunk of it in tax, so I cashed my chips in and left while I was ahead. I used the $800 to buy everyone’s dinner the next night and still had some left to add to my kitty for the coming weeks.
The next day we ran along Highway 62 towards the Joshua Tree National Park. It was our first taste of some hills, with well over 3,000 feet of climbing throughout the day. For those among us not used to running this kind of distance every day, it was starting to get hard. We finished the day at the park, setting our tents up on the sand and had great fun playing ultimate frisbee for an hour or two. As it got dark, you could see all the stars, large and bright, in between the clouds overhead – awesome. Then Jup got out his camera and started taking clever shots, using a flash light and adjusting the shutter speed to capture ou
r names in lights in the night sky. It was a great end to a great day.
The next morning it was very windy and I almost lost my tent to the wind while trying to pack it away. Which gave me a great idea: let’s fly it like a kite! Jup got involved too and together we tried to get my tent up in the sky, where it wanted to be. We managed to lift it only a few metres off the ground, so it just wasn’t to be.
We were booked in to visit a couple of local schools that day and split off into two groups to get it done. Jup and I and a few others went to Yucca Valley High School to talk to them about what we were doing. Hearing the kids’ stories about what they were up to and how they were getting fit was really inspiring. We messed about in a gym there for a while, which helped to take everyone’s mind off the running. After that, I had to break away from the group to go and run the same route as the day before again, only this time on my own. I was still behind on marathons for my attempt to run 367 in the year. Fortunately, the crew were happy to help me out and I ran a decent time, pretty much the same as the day before. My count was now up to 281 marathons in 283 days.
The next four days were spent running across the desert, a straight highway through wide open land, under a hot, hot sun. There was little traffic now, so the support vehicle was better able to get ahead and set up the aid stations, and I could run as fast as I liked, which was important. I took a piece of chalk with me one morning and at about the 17-mile stage I stopped to write some messages for the runners behind me (‘GO ON, JUP’ and ‘RUN, COOPER, RUN’ for example). I hoped they’d see them and be encouraged at that, often rather miserable, point in a marathon. When they finished later, I was pleased to hear most of them had seen my messages and they had given them a boost.
From here on in, I would use the technique that had served me best in multiple marathoning. That meant starting out quickly and running the first six miles in about 30 to 40 minutes, then I’d try to get to the halfway point in about 1 hour 30 minutes or quicker. For the second half of the race, I’d taper off and walk and jog, depending on how I felt. This meant I was already starting to recover in preparation for the next day’s running. If I wanted to improve my time, I might switch up the pace for the last few miles, but generally I’d just cruise in. For anyone trying to run more than a week’s worth of daily marathons, this is the technique I’d recommend adopting.