Marathon Man

by Rob Young

  She was very pretty, and told me she was a 36-year-old Canadian, and a very accomplished cake-maker. She went on to explain how miserable she was living out here, having moved to the States to be with her boyfriend, who turned out to be a bit of a dick. With no ties and no children, I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just leave this guy and start anew somewhere else, so I suggested she move to a different city and that she should take up a sport and get out and meet people. Soon enough things will get better that way, I told her. That was my experience at least. We chatted for about 20 minutes out there on the track, before I said goodbye and continued on with the race.

  ‘You’re an angel,’ she said as we parted, which I didn’t really understand. After all, we’d only had a conversation. Anyway, she seemed in much better spirits by the time I left, so I guess I’d cheered her up. About five minutes after leaving her, I heard a train go by in the distance, presumably on the very line where I had seen her. I stopped and wondered if I should go back to see if she was OK. She must be, I thought. Why wouldn’t she be?

  As I ran on, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and that train. Why was she even out on the track in the middle of nowhere? Had she come out there to throw herself under a train? If so, had she gone along with it? It was too awful to consider. Later, in camp, I asked the other runners if anyone had seen someone out on the tracks, but none of them had. I would have loved to have known for sure that she was safe.

  The next night I had a chance to check my Facebook page and I was really pleased to find I had a message from her (I’d told her about my page during our conversation and she’d said she’d check it out). What a relief it was to hear from her. She sounded pretty upbeat about things and was full of gratitude for our little chat. She said I’d made a big impression on her. I was just glad she was alive and grateful that, with nobody else around for miles, I’d managed to bump into her and give her the encouragement she clearly needed.

  A few races and school visits later, on 13 May, we arrived in North Carolina before heading into Virginia. It was all about coping with the heat for most of those marathons. I think after all the running we’d done, we all felt we’d make it to the finish at that stage, so it became more relaxed in camp, and people were quite philosophical. Mentally we began to prepare for the end of the journey, when we would be reunited with our loved ones and the lives we’d left behind. It was a time of reflection and preparation. Some were looking forward to getting back to their ‘normal’ lives while others, like me, were planning the next big adventure. One thing was for sure: the adventure would not end here.

  On the morning of 2 June, after four-and-a-half months on the road together, we set off on our penultimate marathon of the Race Across USA series in very good spirits. That day we were running 27.63 miles, all the way to the White House. It wasn’t the last race of the series, but it felt like it somehow. There was still another marathon the day after, out to Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, but running to the White House, where I knew I was going to see Joanna, felt like the end for me. It was the end of this particular journey, my race across America and my extended year of intensive marathon running (416 marathons/ultras in 416 days at that point). I was looking forward to a rest, however brief.

  We started as 12 and now we were eight (Steve Cooper had flown in to run the last couple of marathons with us, which was a nice touch). During the race we had lost members of the group – Jup, Patrick, Jessica, Chris – who through injury, circumstance or a change of heart had said their goodbyes and left. Morale had been dented and they were missed, but the rest of us had continued on to our goal. And all of those who finished that race will share a bond that will last forever, I think.

  I decided to run quickly that day. Since breaking the record, I’d been in third gear for the last few weeks, with nothing to motivate me as I was way out in front in the overall lead in the race. So I had been taking a breather, horsing around more than usual and generally winding down towards the finish line, but that day I decided it was time to clear out the cobwebs.

  The end didn’t happen quite as I would have planned it. Way out in front, I reached the White House in 3 hours 4 minutes, according to my watch. The only problem was the finish line wasn’t there yet, so I had to run around looking for it and eventually someone told me it was in the middle of the square. When I got there, I found a handful of friends and family of the runners, and my own Joanna and Alexander. They had been standing in the cold and the drizzling rain, waiting for me. It was amazing to see them both after so long. We got to hug, but it was all too brief – a journalist and a photographer from the Sun were waiting to interview me. Then Sandy arrived and looked surprised to see me.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ she asked. I looked at my watch.

  ‘About fifteen minutes,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I’ve only just arrived,’ she said. ‘So I’ll have register your finishing time as now, I’m afraid.’

  Apparently, she hadn’t expected anyone in that soon, so effectively I had even beaten the finish line. Now you have to be really going some to do that. After that, I wanted to wait to see all the other runners come in, as well as play with Buddy and chat to Joanna. It was a difficult moment in a way. I had become part of a new family in the past five months. We had helped each other through an incredible journey, and now I was rejoining my actual family, Joanna and Alexander. So while I was happy to be back with them, I was a little sad to be saying goodbye to all those wonderful people.

  Over the next couple of days we wrapped things up. First, there was the closing party that night which was an okay affair. I didn’t feel it was handled incredibly well by the organisers and by now many of us simply wanted to go home. It was a shame. It should have been a riotous party, a celebration that lasted throughout the night, but we had all said our goodbyes throughout the week, person to person. That was where the farewells were done. And of course there was still one final marathon to Chesapeake Bay to run the next day.

  That final marathon to the Atlantic was somehow symbolic of the whole race. We had all agreed to run it together as one and to finish, as we had started in January, together, hand in hand at the ocean. It started off that way, but then at one point Darren decided to run on. Perhaps he wanted to win a stage for the first time, but still it felt inappropriate. So he finished on his own and the rest of us finished together in a little under seven hours. At the end, there was management and there was the rest of us, and the lack of unity was evident.

  Still, nothing could take away the sense of achievement we all felt seeing that ocean after months of hard running, through ice and searing heat. There had been moments of turmoil as well as great times of fun, hilarity and togetherness. It had been an awesome journey and that journey was now complete.

  I had finished 420 marathons/ultras in 420 days, even with my three-week ‘pause’ in November. But as a group we had run 117 back-to-back marathons over the last four-and-a-half months for a total of 3,080 miles by the group (plus a couple of hundred more for me, as I had done a few extra). You couldn’t help but feel like you’d accomplished something pretty special. Most of us would have liked a little time together without running, to reflect on what we’d been through, but the race organisers left swiftly as they had to return to LA for something.

  A final note about the race organisers, and Darren in particular. I have expressed my discontent with many decisions that were made and the way in which things were done, and I stand by them, but he’s a good guy and did his best under those circumstances. I think if he had been able to focus on the organisation and had the reins to himself, things might have gone a lot better. I hope he isn’t too discouraged by my comments and continues next year with a revised version of this race, which has the potential to be something even greater than it currently is.

  The next day we had some final tests to do with Bryce and his medical team. Joanna and Alexander had flown all this way to see me, and frustratingly I just couldn’t seem to
get more than five minutes with them, but eventually we were together again in our hotel room, and got to start making up for all the time we’d spent apart.

  That night, lying next to Joanna, with Alexander in the next room, I couldn’t sleep. I wondered what my next adventure might be. Running to the North Pole? Swimming the Atlantic? It had to be something epic. But little did I know, my next big adventure had already started. At that moment, a billion of my sperm had set out on their own long-distance race. There would be no aid stations on the way and it may have taken 72 hours before they reached their destination. It would be an epic journey and one sperm would eventually cross the finish line and be crowned champion.

  I was going to be a dad again!

  Epilogue

  Coming back to the UK was great, though a little daunting. I had the immediate issue of trying to find some kind of work and a place for Joanna, Buddy and me to live as we began what was essentially a whole new life. We moved into a flat above a shop in East Sheen and I found a new hobby, assembling Ikea furniture through the night.

  Not having to run every day was a new concept, but one I quickly got to grips with. I decided to take a rest from running for a few weeks, to let my body rest and recover. In the meantime, I hired an agent and started hustling to try to make endurance running a career, somehow. I didn’t want to go back to an office job, so this was my time to capitalise on my year’s running and use it as a launchpad into a new career as an athlete.

  There was finally time to reflect on the year that had passed and what it had all meant. I had been forced to push myself beyond my limits and learned a lot about myself along the way. Not all of it was pretty, mind. One of the major things I found out is I’m not the best at communicating (which is ironic when you think I joined the Royal Corps of Signals precisely because of the communications aspect). In fact, I’m one of the worst. I also learned that juggling my love of extreme endurance challenges with a family is going to be pretty tricky. I hope I manage to get the right balance in future.

  I also learned that everyone is in such a hurry but where are they actually hurrying to? Running somehow has made me more still, I think. As a result, the rat race with all its accompanying worries and concern to keep-up-with-the-Joneses seems even more absurd to me. Life shouldn’t have to be that stressful and I hope to choose a different path for myself.

  On that note, I was lucky enough to have won the Sports and Peace award in December. Receiving the honour in Monte Carlo was a chance to meet so many people, big hitters in sport’s governing bodies. It was heartening to see how committed so many of them were to making positive change in sport and in the world. There was real passion and stop-at-nothing devotion to creating a brighter future for the world. I hope I can be a part of that movement myself in some small way.

  I come from a certain past, with many disadvantages, but the one big advantage it has given me is the chance to connect with young people going through similar things. Young people really are the most important people, because they are pure potential. With the right support they can become heroes, but without it they can become monsters. So we need to inspire and teach them well, particularly the vulnerable, the at-risk and the impoverished. We need to remember that today’s street kids can be the champions of tomorrow. No one can be forgotten in society. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, so we must spend our time and money on helping those most in need. It’s in all our interests that we do.

  I hope in all my hundreds of school visits that I have had an impact on some children’s lives, helped them to steer their lives in different directions. The feedback I have from them reassures me that I have. And after all, as I have said, if I change only one life for the better then it has still all been worth it.

  During the course of the year, I have shared tears with some and laughter with many. I have come to love the sport of running with all my heart and that love has expanded to a greater appreciation for the wider community. Everyone is my friend, no matter who you are or where you are from. I love people and I want to help anyone if I can. We often underestimate the power of the smallest act of kindness, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, a small charitable donation. I have learned they can be the difference between life and death at times.

  On the fundraising front, I had managed to raise about £70,000 by the end of the year, which was a lot less than I had hoped for, but I know it has helped change a few children’s lives for the better and what could be more satisfying than that? By the time of writing, that figure had gone up to £214,000, which was much more like it, so I’m still making progress and will continue to do what I can. If you want to chuck a pound in the pot then please do, check out my website www.marathonmanuk.com. And thanks in advance.

  There are clearly plenty of people without whom I couldn’t have done what I did, and there’s a thank you section just for them, but one of the most important things I’ve learned is that we can’t achieve anything on our own: cooperation is what gets us to our dreams.

  After recovering from the Race Across USA, I haven’t returned to the couch again. I took on Dean Karnazes’s record of running 350 miles without sleep, and I’m glad to say I managed to run 373.75 miles before the wheels finally came off. Then I spent a few days in Guernsey with some running friends and we broke three treadmill world records and ten British records over there, and had a lot of fun along the way. After that I ‘ran for peace’ with Adam Holland, carrying a torch all around the country as part of a Kenyan initiative, ‘the Champions Walk for Peace’. You can read about all of those stories on my website or, who knows, in my next book.

  Thanks for reading this. I hope it’s been as thrilling to read as it was to run. And if it’s inspired you to go for a run, whether it’s around the block or all the way around Mont Blanc, then please just do it. There’s an incredible world out there just waiting to be discovered.

  After all, it’s only a bit of running!

  Appendix 1:

  The Crazy Running Handbook

  My doctor might tell you not to listen to a word I say, that I’m a maverick and following me will only get you into trouble. He probably has a point. That said, I am still alive and well after finishing 370 marathons/ultras in a year – and not all of that is down to dumb luck. So, for those who are interested, here are a few things I’ve learned about marathon running and how to survive it. I haven’t always followed my own advice or what the doctors have told me (and you should really ALWAYS check with them when taking on any kind of extreme endurance event), but one thing I did learn to do in addition was to throw out the rule book and trust my instincts.

  Mental focus – Your mental focus is one of the most important things you’ll need to accomplish your goal. This applies to anyone and everyone, in any sport, or with any goals. You have to believe in yourself; don’t hope to accomplish your goal, know you’re going to accomplish it.

  Running properly – People who have grown up with access to modern running shoes tend to have terrible running form. Most people run on their heels too much, have tense upper bodies, do not control their breathing and have lazy leg mechanics. You need to learn to keep your upper body as relaxed as possible, with your body in an upright position and your arms loose. If you’re tense, you are wasting energy. When running, try putting your thumb and one finger together slightly touching; this should stop you from squeezing your hands together and reduce the tension in your arms and shoulders.

  One of the best things I’ve learnt is that I have a perfect mid to forefoot running strike. Without getting too much into the science behind it, it’s biomechanically more efficient in terms of energy expenditure versus powering forward, compared with a heel strike.

  You can also improve your running by watching any professional runner. Note how they land on the mid part of their foot, with their torsos upright and bent ever-so-slightly forward. There’s no need to buy barefoot shoes, as modern running shoes protect your feet, reduce stress on bones and soft tissues, and yo
u can have a natural running form in them. You just need to be conscious of HOW you are running.

  Choosing your marathons – Many people have asked me how to go about choosing the right marathon for them. It can be difficult to decide, especially if it’s your first. First of all, you need to decide if you want to run in a big city marathon or a smaller local one. Both have their pluses and minuses.

  Pretty much every major city around the world has a marathon. These big events are run like well-oiled machines and there will be a massive background crew to make sure the race goes smoothly. You will find thousands of competitors around you and spectators in even greater numbers. Although these events have an amazing atmosphere, they can feel at times a bit overcrowded for some, with too much going on. Most big marathons have a high entry fee, but what it will get you is:

  • Drinks stations, usually sponsored by a big brand, every two to three miles consisting of water, sometimes energy drinks and gels.

  • Lots of competitors and many spectators who can inspire you to keep going.

  • Accuracy – there is nothing worse than finding out that the course was shorter or longer than the said distance. That is why the larger races will be ratified by the national governing body and are almost guaranteed to be pinpoint accurate.

  Smaller races tend to have fewer than a thousand competitors and are usually held in smaller towns, cities or villages. They will rarely have many elite runners and the courses are often a little longer, by a tenth of a mile or so. Generally they offer more picturesque routes over many different terrains, with less waiting time to get over the starting line. The entry fees are often much lower, and you’ll probably not struggle to get an entry.