Marathon Man Read online

The reason I hadn’t told Ken about my running was because I knew what he would say. He put work, profit and his business at the top of his agenda and the rest came a distant second. He might have cared about me as his hard-working assistant, and maybe a bit more than that, as a son almost, but I knew he wouldn’t understand my dream. I barely did myself. I was certain he wouldn’t like it when he found out. And I was right.

  In the end, Ken cornered me and asked what was going on, so I told him everything. When I’d finished telling him about the marathons and the charities there was a long pause while he looked at me in disbelief. To break the silence I smiled and said, ‘It’s just a bit of running.’

  ‘A bit of running! You’re bloody mad, Rob. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Well, this explains a lot,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve still been getting everything done.’

  ‘You don’t look well, Rob. You’re pale and you must be exhausted. How long do you plan to keep this up for?’

  ‘A year. I’m trying to break the record. Haven’t you been listening?’

  ‘You can’t run marathons for a year, Rob. Nobody does that. You’ll bloody kill yourself.’

  We didn’t agree, but as long as I was punctual and getting things done we’d be all right. I knew to keep it to myself at work and Ken would be fine. I knew how to keep him happy, I thought. I didn’t know what all the fuss was about, anyway. After all, it was only a bit of running.

  When people asked me about the running and how I was, I’d always say I was fine. I’d let members of my medical team know about some of the things that were hurting, but there was no point airing that with other people. Truth be told, I even kept several things from the medical team, such as a broken toe later in the year. I like to deal with some things in my own way and it helped to keep me positive not having them fussing over me all the time.

  This book is full of various bits of advice that I hope might help other runners, but my best advice remains: ‘Do it your way.’ Even if taking that route will certainly have its shortcomings. If you try to do something as ridiculous as running a marathon every day for a year, the only way you’ll have a chance of succeeding is by trusting your instincts. There is no path in a book. The path is under your feet.

  Of course my legs felt like jelly and I had cramps and pains and various things that I didn’t talk about. I had blisters on every toe and on my heel, as well as a few missing toenails. My heel arches were cut and scarred. The inside of my thighs and armpits were red and sore from chafing. I’d had several nose bleeds (though I’m not sure if that was related to the running) and my legs felt completely dead all day long. And of course my nipples were still bleeding during every race, despite putting zinc tape on them. That had certainly helped but, boy, when you took it off . . .!

  The best thing for me was to put a brave face on it and laugh about it. Nobody likes a whinger. The mental aspect is the most important thing when you are taking on an extreme challenge, and you can’t go around being negative, either in your thinking or your speech. You have to keep upbeat and light, put the troubles into the distance so they become little dots on the horizon, then they don’t look so threatening.

  Your mind can be your greatest ally or your greatest foe. It’s up to you. With it you can do anything you desire. People spend their lives talking about ‘I want’ and ‘I should’, but this doesn’t help; you just end up covered in wants and shoulds, barriers around you that become too big to break through. Don’t let that happen. You must believe in the possibility for change. Then you must go and change the things you want to change. Only you can do it. You must be the source of the change; don’t wait for it to happen – make it happen now. There’ll never be a better moment for it.

  While the running was tough in some ways, the truth was that in others it wasn’t tough enough. A part of me didn’t feel stretched yet and I wanted to do more. I had a marathon to squeeze in each day, but I knew I could do it. I never really believed it was in doubt and I was secretly getting bored of my marathon-a-day challenge. After a month or so, it didn’t feel much like a challenge any more. And if I was bored then I was convinced all my followers would think the same thing. So, as time went on, I couldn’t help but think about things that would make my quest more epic.

  One of the things I always did back then was run further than a marathon. I’d often run an extra 5k lap at the end of the marathon, just to show anyone who might have doubted me that I was for real. I tried to drum up company for my runs on social media, asking people to join me on my midweek Richmond Park marathons. That was as much for the company, which I always enjoyed, as for the corroboration. I was always thinking about the doubters who might say, ‘I know he says he runs all these marathons, but how do I know he’s really doing them?’ I wanted to make sure there was no room for any doubt.

  Most of my Richmond Park runs were at silly o’clock, either from 3.30am to 8am, or in the evening till late, but as word spread more people joined me and cycled or ran alongside me for part of the way. Near-strangers got up out of bed and made the effort to support me time and time again. I’d appear at a gate on a chilly morning in May and out of the darkness someone who’d heard about me and decided to come out and run with me for a few miles would introduce themselves. We’d chat and I felt so good that I was reaching people with what I was doing.

  I experienced a thousand such kindnesses over the year, things that kept me going. One that I’ll never forget is when Pip Wilson, a dear friend who became part of the MMUK team, left a piece of carrot cake and a can of coke out by my bag at Sheen Gate for me. I can’t tell you how good that tasted. It was early morning and cars hadn’t been allowed in the park yet. So I lay out on the floor in the middle of the road and ate that cake, washing it down with coke. All that sugar entered my bloodstream and, although I was freezing cold, all the pain disappeared for a minute. I was as high as a kite.

  Everywhere I went, people rallied to do what they could for me. It was awesome! My running seemed to be bringing the best out of myself and others, too. I just had to keep it up so I didn’t let anyone down.

  Another thing I started doing to make things more interesting and to get people to take notice was to sign up to difficult races. I started looking at the calendar for more ultras. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew what they’d say: ‘Why jeopardise your world record by running further than a marathon in one day? How are you going to recover for the next day?’ The truth is I needed to keep this interesting for me. If I was bored then I knew I’d be in trouble.

  Running further and thinking of ways to test myself more kept me interested. How far could I go? How many marathons could I do in a weekend? Where are my limits? I was determined to find out, even if it meant risking serious injury. Pushing through my limits was exciting and I wanted to know just how far I could take things.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Bets Are Off

  17–29 May 2014

  Awful as they were, my childhood beatings have taught me how to do two important things that have served me well in life (and marathon running in particular). The first is how to distance myself from pain, to shut myself off from it. It’s a little trick I learnt through those daily beatings – a survival response, I guess. I do it very consciously now, when things become too painful. It’s like flicking a switch in my mind and I move away from the pain to a different space, separate from the pain. Then I can witness the pain from afar and it doesn’t overwhelm me.

  The second thing I learned to do was to control my emotions and fear. ‘The Dangling’ taught me that. ‘The Dangling’ was the most terrifying thing my dad used to do to me. At some point during a long beating, which usually took place in the living room, my dad would get bored, and then drag me upstairs. Picking me up by my ankles, he’d shuffle me over to the bottom of the stairs. When he did that I knew what was coming, so I started to prepare. I’d go deep inside myself and get really focused and quiet. Then all that was happening around me, the n
oise of my dad’s shouting and the jolts and blows, would get turned down, softened.

  We had a big wooden staircase that went up in a straight line before turning off to the right. Dad would drag me up the stairs, my head hitting most steps on the way up (I tried to lessen the impact with my arms but was never too successful). By then I was in the zone, prepared; I call this my ‘locked-in’ state.

  All my concentration had gone into pushing my emotions and thoughts to the back of my head. It’s as if my head is divided into two. The back half becomes full and locked, and the front half is empty. I have learnt to talk, understand and be half with my surroundings while still being focused on my locked-in state, keeping it intact, so my troubles can’t break the lock and cause me pain. Like that, I was ready for anything.

  When we reached the top of the stairs, my dad would dangle me over the stairway. ‘Don’t move, boy!’ he screamed at me. ‘Don’t you dare move or I’ll drop you like a stone.’

  He told me if I flinched or made a noise or cried then that was it, he’d drop me head first down the stairs. Before I’d learned to control myself, he would drop me and I’d crash down the stairs. The wrong fall could have broken my neck and I was lucky to have avoided that, but young bodies are supple, so that was in my favour. In the beginning, I’d panic and struggle or whimper, and of course he’d drop me. But over time I learned to be completely still while he dangled me, like a little Buddhist monk hanging by his ankles.

  ‘Look down at the stairs, boy,’ he’d shout at me. ‘Don’t you dare close your eyes or I’m gonna drop you like a stone.’

  So I’d have to look down at the stairs beneath me. It was very daunting, but I learned to face it calmly and not to cry out or panic. If I broke from my locked-in state, I’d have to quickly refocus my gaze on the tip of my nose, in an attempt to re-establish the ‘lock’. If that failed, then biting my lip was the next ploy, a distraction technique to attempt to deflect the pain I was feeling elsewhere. By creating pain in another area of your body, it takes the attention away from the source of your greater pain.

  While he was dangling me there, my father would sometimes hold me by just one leg and drop me, catching me quickly by the same leg with his other hand. He’d move me about trying to terrify me, trying to distress me as much as possible. I probably looked terrified but I didn’t make a sound. I was waiting the whole time. Waiting to be dropped and thinking about how I would protect myself when I landed. I was relaxed and locked in, knowing that if I made a sound or closed my eyes he’d drop me.

  Sometimes he’d drop me even though I didn’t flinch, just to let me know nothing could save me, I suppose, but I don’t think I ever cried or begged for him to stop. I hope my quiet acceptance bothered the hell out of him. I like to think he knows he didn’t crush me. In the end he only made me a stronger person, and by giving me reason to learn my coping techniques, I also eventually became a softer, calmer person.

  Over the years I have learned some great pain-relief tools that I know from experience really work for me – but then I have had plenty of practice. The important thing to remember is that the mind works like a muscle – it just needs to be exercised in order to become useful to you. Relaxation is the key, always. If you can stay relaxed, even under great duress, the pain will be less and the healing power of the body maximised. This is the method that works for me:

  1. Put yourself in a relaxed, reclining position in a dark room. Either shut your eyes and try to picture something pleasant or focus on a single point in the room.

  2. Breathe deeply and allow your breathing to slow down. Use your chest to pull the breath into your stomach.

  3. When you feel you are nicely relaxed, you are ready to use some of the mind-control techniques detailed below.

  The imagination technique: Think about a place from your past when you were pain-free. For me this is the Grober Alpsee, a lake in Germany I visited one summer for a cycling race. It is beautiful and peaceful beyond description. Close your eyes and imagine yourself in that place. Notice your surroundings, observe all the aspects you remember from that location. Enjoy the memory in its fullness. Transport yourself there.

  (If you don’t have a place that works for you, you could focus on something that you love, such as your favourite chocolate bar.)

  Doing this repeatedly will become more and more powerful (although even on the first attempt I predict you will notice some benefits). By taking your mind off your pain, you will allow your body to relax, including the tensed muscles surrounding the site of your pain.

  The diversion technique: With your eyes closed, switch your attention to a part of your body that is not in pain. At first you might think there is no such place, but with persistence you can find it. It could be your toes, your ears or the back of your head. Focus on that part of your body and relax into the pain-free sensation there, allowing it to become the predominant sensation if you can, even if for only a few moments. This shows you that you are not totally engulfed in pain, but there are places where your body is at peace. Dwell there and those spaces will increase.

  When I had been beaten as a child, I would lie in bed and move my feet in a circular motion before scrunching them up. My feet were pain-free and by focusing on them it helped the rest of my body to share that feeling of ease and comfort. It’s miraculous really when you think about it! It is the physical equivalent of positive thinking. When all seems to be going badly, try to focus on the things you are glad for. We all have them. The more you look for them and focus on them, the quicker the other areas of our lives improve.

  Be patient with yourself when trying these techniques. If they don’t seem to help right away, take a deep breath and send good vibes/thoughts to yourself. These techniques take practice to become effective for managing serious pain, so work at it. Practise them for about 20 to 30 minutes four times per week. With time you will find that your power over pain will increase and it will take less mental energy to achieve more pain relief.

  By the way, I should stress that these techniques are there for pain relief only. They won’t cure any underlying problems, and it’s important you don’t rely on them instead of going to a doctor for proper treatment.

  Halfway through May, the weather was starting to get better, and that helped ensure more and more people were joining me in the park for my weekday runs. It seemed like things were gathering momentum. I was seeing Dominika Brooks for regular massages. She and her husband, Dustin, lived near the park and I used to pop in after a run in the evening and Dominika would work on my legs and give me some food. If she wasn’t around, I’d play football games on the Playstation with their nine-year-old son, William. He used to thrash me, but it was a nice break from everything and we’d have lots of laughs. As I’ve mentioned, I love hanging out with children – they’re naturally positive and a bit silly, like me.

  We’d get Dominos pizzas in, which William would get very excited about, like it was Christmas, and when Dominika returned she’d have to start working again, this time on me. Sometimes her massages became very painful and then I went into that place where pain is distant so I could handle it. She used to say my eyes glazed over at those times and she knew when I was locking myself in. Anyway, I always felt much better after her massages, a lot of the tightness was eased and my legs felt flushed out and released.

  As far as massages go, I learned one important thing throughout the year: to have the shoulders massaged first, before anywhere else. While my legs were tight, my shoulders and lower back were too, and that tightness was more difficult to shift. In the beginning, I tried to stretch my arms and upper body myself, but it didn’t help. So I asked Dominika to work on my shoulders and upper back before my legs and, incredibly, the next day’s marathon was much easier – my legs, back and shoulders were all released of tension. If you are planning on doing something similar to what I’ve attempted, you’re going to need plenty of massages. If you do, I’d recommend getting your shoulders worked on first, followed by t
he legs and then finish with the back, if there’s time.

  I put Dominika’s business logo up on my Facebook page that evening, along with Virgin Trains and Sheen Sports, who had given me some shoes to wear. I was still trying to find the perfect shoes for me, as my arches still hurt quite a bit. It’s always going to be a case of trial and error before you find the right shoes for you, but don’t carry on with trainers that cause you discomfort. Keep looking for the right pair – your feet have enough to put up with without being in the wrong shoes.

  It was around this time that I got introduced to Ben Thornton, who’d become a constant companion on my weekday marathons. Ben’s a local dad and decent marathon runner himself, who joined me on one or two marathons a week during that summer. Apart from the competitors in the Race Across America (RAUSA) series the following year, nobody else ran as many miles with me during that year. He was moved by my fundraising efforts for Great Ormond Street, especially as a close friend of his had a little girl, Emma, in the hospital at the time. She’d recently had a heart transplant and the hospital staff were doing all that they could to get her back to a normal life.

  On Saturday 17 May I ran the Orpington Marafun, which was well organised and run in a great spirit by a good crowd of runners. That evening I went on Facebook and dedicated the race to Emma and to the staff at Great Ormond Street Hospital. I hoped she would manage to keep fighting and defeat the odds that seemed stacked against her.

  The next day was the official Richmond Park marathon. I was getting known in my own back yard, so I was well backed by friends and supporters for this one. Plenty of friends as well as complete strangers cheered me on and told me they thought what I was doing was amazing. This was the 36th time I’d run the Richmond Park marathon course in the last 35 days, so at least there was also no chance of my getting lost. That’s not something I can say for every marathon I’ve ever run, as you’ll soon discover.