by Ben Smith
The doubters I cut out quite early, like a cancer. It’s not that I need to be surrounded by positivity all the time, but if you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything. There are social media trolls, people who are pretty nasty to us. One guy said he wanted to pour petrol on me and set me on fire. Who knows why, there are lots of sad weirdos out there. But it never really bothers me, and I’ve been lucky that the horrible stuff is very minimal, and only really happened right at the beginning. Negative comments on social media are deleted straightaway, and the comments section has even become self-policing – my supporters will jump on any negativity and stamp it out in a flash. I think the fact I’m running to highlight bullying helps keep it to a minimum.
A couple of running clubs have told me they don’t want to get involved, because of one of the charities I’m raising money for. As they made clear in the email, it wasn’t Kidscape they had a problem with, so it had to be Stonewall. People can see that sometimes my next port of call changes on the website and start asking why I’m not running there anymore. We never call them out on it, because they are entitled to their views. Also, we only spoke to one person at each club, and that person’s views don’t reflect the views of all the running club’s members. So we always just say: ‘Sorry we won’t be running in your town as planned, due to logistical issues.’ Draw your own conclusions! But what’s great is I’m talking about literally a couple of running clubs in the entire country, so the project is proving that most people don’t have any issues.
There are people keeping tabs on us in the running community, making sure I run what I’m supposed to be running, which is fair enough. I’m sharing my routes and distances on the website Strava, but my first watch broke, which means there are some gaps. I have the data, I just can’t upload it, which is frustrating, because there were a few people on running forums trying to discredit me. Thankfully, others have jumped to my defence, confirming that they’ve run with me and uploading their own data to prove I ran the full distance. Then there are those who want to challenge me. On one course we end up lost in some woods, three miles from the end, in the pitch-dark, in the teeming rain, because somebody keeps changing the route. It’s not that they want to get us lost, but I assume it’s that person saying: ‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’ We all end up running an ultra-marathon, and I’m so annoyed, but I don’t show it. Afterwards, I shake the person’s hand and say: ‘Thanks for that, that was a really good course.’ They haven’t broken me, it takes a lot more than that…
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Nick Dransfield, Ben’s running brother: There were a few people questioning the project on social media, asking if Ben was really doing a marathon every day. I liked to respond to these people: ‘I’ve been out with him and I can tell you he is most certainly doing one every day.’ Some members of a well-known American forum like to call out British runners for cheating, and in some cases they have been proved right. They questioned Ben a little bit, until they started looking at the stats and realised he was legit. He wasn’t doing it quickly, there were no world records on the line, but he was doing his 26.2 miles every day. Hats off to anyone who covers 26.2 miles – however they do it, it’s time on their feet.
A few times we ran and people got the wrong end of the stick, sprinted off and started reeling off seven-minute miles. I was thinking: ‘Come on, guys, this chap’s done a few marathons and his legs are a bit sore. Wind it in a bit!’ Some people just didn’t get it, but the vast majority did. They found that it was more fun running at a slower pace because it meant that you could chat to people, have a laugh, take in the scenery. It was just more sociable and enjoyable. Ben repackaged things, so there are now people who never would have thought of doing a marathon who can say: ‘Actually, I did that marathon with Ben. Maybe I’ll enter London or New York, or wherever.’ Ben showed them that ‘normal’ people can do a marathon. With a bit of hard work for a few months, you’ll get round, no matter what size or shape you are, or what your running background is.
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DAYS 123–127: I sometimes get really cross when nobody shows up. I wonder if I should feel guilty about feeling like that because people have other commitments and the world wasn’t suddenly revolving around me just because I’d decided to do this crazy Challenge. But then I think: ‘No, actually, I’ve put a lot of effort in, and if people have said they want to get involved, stick to your word, don’t let us down.’ I’ve been leaving it to running clubs to get the word out, rather than social media, and it’s always the individual who lets us down, and not the club itself. Some will give you absolutely everything – people to run with, a bed for the night, dinner and breakfast – others make a minimal effort and a few do nothing at all. Dad will sometimes have to map out routes himself, while sometimes we get sent pictures of routes to work out for ourselves.
Liverpool is an amazing city for running, and there are a lot of 401 supporters there, but when we arrive, only one person from the local area turns up. After we leave, we have a load of people contacting us and saying: ‘When are you coming to Liverpool?’ I reply: ‘We were just there!’ They say: ‘Why didn’t you let us know?’ And I say: ‘We did!’ Suzie Mills from the Teignbridge Trotters is the only person who does turn up in Liverpool on day 127. Thank God she does! Back in Truro, on day 18, she told me her plan was to do her first marathon a year to the day from her first ever run, and this is her day of reckoning…
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Suzie Mills, Teignbridge Trotters: That was an awesome day in Liverpool. It was just me and Ben, and it was just so nice having him to myself, sometimes chatting, sometimes running in silence. Before the start, he broke the day down for me: 10km, stop for coffee and cake, 10km, stop for lunch, 10km, stop for coffee and cake… He broke it down into manageable chunks and didn’t care how much time it would take. He just wanted me to feel like I’d accomplished something, proved I could do anything if I really focused on it. The first six miles went by quite quickly, the legs were warming up nicely, text messages were pouring in and there were no niggles. But after running along the Mersey and reaching the halfway point at the pier head, my feet were starting to hurt a bit and I was getting a blister. In training, I’d managed to get up to 16 miles, which left 10 miles that were very much unknown territory.
With seven miles to go, we sat down in Sefton Park and I read some of the messages of support on Facebook. My legs were heavy, the blister had multiplied, but I knew I was going to do it. Running along the Mersey for the second time was amazing. The sun was setting and I could see the lights of the Albert Dock getting closer with every step. I’ll never forget the encouragement and support Ben gave me during those last few miles. He was literally running around me as I was trudging forward. He knew I was struggling, so he started saying: ‘OK, we’ll run to there and then walk to there.’ He made it seem possible. It was like a metaphor for life: break it down into manageable chunks, don’t think too far ahead, just take the next bit as it comes. Hobble to that next bit, then maybe you can carry on running from there. With about a quarter of a mile left, just before we reached the pier head again, Ben ran on ahead because he wanted to film me coming in. By that point I was more walking than running, but I was determined to run to the finish. I don’t know where it came from, but I ran with everything I had left…
It was dark and it was raining, but I just felt elated that I’d done it. I think both of us expected tears, but for a while afterwards I was just in a state of disbelief. In the space of a year I’d gone from not running at all to running a marathon. I just couldn’t grasp it. But that’s what Ben did, made the seemingly impossible possible for people all over the country. On The 401 Challenge Facebook page, it seemed like the whole running community had got behind him, was willing him to carry on, willing the project to be a success. And you’d read about all these people doing PBs, and that inspired other people, who then wanted to run PBs, so there was this
snowball effect.
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MAN TAKING ON 401 MARATHONS IN 401 DAYS RUNS THROUGH BOLTON
BOLTON NEWS, 25 JANUARY 2016
‘…I never wake up saying I don’t want to do it, but my confidence wavers. But once I am on the starting line, that’s it, there is no stopping me…’
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DAYS 128–148: On day 129, a mass of runners from Warrington Running Club are waiting for me at the start, all wearing big smiles and opening their arms in support, and my previous two days are forgotten. Twenty of us end up recording a video in a guy called John’s bathroom – random, I know, but that’s The 401 Challenge for you.
Moving through Manchester, Stockport and into Macclesfield, the groups continue to grow and the warmth of the North continues to shine through the murky weather. My two days in Manchester see me run with the Chorlton Runners and camp out in the car park of a pub. In Stockport, we get our biggest group yet, almost 250 runners – it’s like a controlled riot. On day 133, in Macclesfield, I get to run with another incredible group of people (146 of them, a massive new record, including Neil, the leader, who is an absolute gent and really gets what we are trying to achieve) and then it’s time to make my way across the Pennines, something I’ll find myself doing a lot – from east to west, west to east – over the next few weeks. When I arrive in Sheffield for day 135, the weather is turning and snow is forecast, which makes me worried about losing control of Florence in the icy conditions, damaging her and scuttling the Challenge.
On day 135, I’m joined by Ben, Jane and a few other members of the local club, including Helen, who only flew in from South Africa six hours earlier, and we run around Ladybower and Derwent Reservoirs, where the 617 Squadron practised for the Dambuster raids in World War II. On to Doncaster for days 137 and 138, then to Hull for days 139 and 140, where running on flat ground is a welcome relief. Next to Brough, Goole, Wakefield, Bolton, Wigan and Southport, before I reach Blackpool, where I run with kids from a local disability school and am forced to take shelter from the raging wind in the arcades, where we run among the slot machines. Also in Blackpool, I get to run with Kyle’s mum for the first time, along with her friend Chez. Chez and Pat manage their first half-marathon distance that day, which is an incredible achievement considering they have only just taken up running.
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EXTREME ATHLETE RUNS THROUGH SOUTH LAKELAND
THE WESTMORLAND GAZETTE,
16 FEBRUARY 2016
‘…I’ve run something like 4,290 miles so far – if I could walk on water, that would be from here to the Afghanistan-Pakistan border…’
JANUARY 2016 IN NUMBERS
Marathons: 31
Miles run: 823.5 (average per day: 26.6)
Running time: 166:03.03 hours (average per day: 5:21.23)
Number of people run with: 639
Distance personal bests: 31
First marathons/ultra-marathons: 24
Pints of cider: 15
Flat whites: 31
DAYS 149–172: In Preston, on day 149, I find myself wading calf-deep through ice-cold water, while in Bradford, on day 151, I’m left for dead by pupils from Bradford Academy, who are just so fast! It’s snowing again in Leeds, where a final, desperate plea from Dad results in about 30 people rocking up and fighting over themselves to plan the route when we next visit. In Selby, the wind picks up and it’s unsafe to drive the van, so we hitch a lift with the local fire service. In Bridlington, on day 155, the wind batters the hills, but the guys from the fire service keep me going. And on day 156, I run down the disused railway track from York to Selby, with soldiers from Catterick Garrison, wearing 15kg backpacks.
I make my way back across the Pennines via Wetherby, Harrogate, Keighley and Skipton, through Burnley and Lancaster, before heading up into Cumbria. The scenery and people around these parts are just incredible, but the routes are tough as the weather is getting bad again. In Carlisle, I meet the amazing DH Runners, who take me under their wing and I have a blast. We have such a good time, I decide to change the route, to ensure we run in Carlisle more often, and it becomes the third most-visited town in the Challenge.
After Carlisle, I make the trip back across the Pennines via Barnard Castle, Darlington and Richmond. In North Allerton on day 172, my partner Kyle, the man who hates running with all of his being, joins me for a few miles, which lifts me immensely. Then it’s on to Thirsk and Scarborough, where I witness a miracle: a man drives past in his van, reverses back, winds down his window and says: ‘I’ve seen you on the news, here’s twenty quid.’ I’m thinking: ‘Twenty quid out of a Yorkshireman, that’s the equivalent of a grand out of a southerner!’ I can say that because both my parents are from Yorkshire…
But it’s not just Kyle and his mum Pat who have joined me out on the road: Kyle’s dad Colin ran his first marathon with me in Launceston on day 27, on his way to see his family in Truro, having left Preston at 4.30 a.m. He was wearing a pair of £10 trainers from Aldi and only planned to do five miles, but ended up doing the whole thing, and has done quite a few with me since. Colin is a lovely bloke, with a heart of gold, and he and his mate Pete like to run on either side of me, stopping people from talking to me if I’m going through a rough patch, as well as constantly taking the piss, all in good spirits. Colin’s seen me at my worst, I’ve seen him at his worst, so we’ve formed quite a deep bond. That’s the nature of the project: people have just got caught up in it, and it’s certainly brought me and Kyle’s family and friends closer together.
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Colin, Kyle’s dad: We went to a Northern Soul night, in the tunnels at Bristol Temple Meads, and Kyle brought Ben along. Kyle said: ‘This is my boyfriend and he’s going to attempt to run 401 marathons in 401 days.’ I thought: ‘Oh, right. Is he all there? Is something seriously wrong with him? Hasn’t he got a job? Where’s he going to get his money from?’ And I said to Kyle: ‘Well, you won’t be doing any of it, will you?’ I was in the Army, so had some idea of what it would take, both physically and mentally, so I was sceptical. But after I ran with him in Launceston, I thought: ‘Hang on a minute, he’s run nearly a month of marathons, this might actually happen.’
I thought I’d come along and do maybe five miles, but there were a lot of people there that day and we all pulled each other along. I got to five miles and thought: ‘I don’t mind this pace, I’ll do a bit more.’ Then I got to 10 miles and thought: ‘I’ve got this far, I might as well do half of it.’ Then all of a sudden I’ve done 19 miles and I’m thinking: ‘Ooh, this is starting to hurt a bit now, why didn’t I go back earlier?’ Ben asked me how I was holding up, and I remember saying: ‘There’s some woman running behind me, sticking knitting needles behind my knees, I’m gonna get her when we’ve finished…’ I got to the end and Ben gave me a bollocking: ‘You’re never running with me again unless you get yourself a pair of proper trainers.’ So the following weekend, I did.
I ran with him again in Birmingham and on Boxing Day in Lincoln, and I couldn’t help noticing that while I was blowing out of my arse at the end of each day, he was bouncing all over the place. I’d be thinking: ‘There’s something seriously wrong with this lad. I know I’m giving him 25 years, but surely it must be hurting him a little bit?’ But just coming up with an idea like that tells me that you’re halfway there mentally. He basically picked the idea of running 401 marathons out of the air and convinced himself he could do it. And what a lot of people didn’t realise was that he’d thought it through, come up with the idea of people running with him, even if it meant only running a mile, which must have helped immensely. And just the smile on those kids’ faces when he visited them at school in the morning must have made running the next 26.2 miles that much easier. But he still had those long days, when he was on his own in the middle of nowhere and the weather was closing in, and he must have extraordinary mental strength to have got through tha
t. And if anyone doubts Ben’s powers of persuasion, all they have to do is look at my wife Pat. Before she met Ben, I’d never seen her run for anything…
Pat, Kyle’s mum: When Kyle explained to me that Ben was going to run 401 marathons in 401 days, I was like, ‘Yeah, right.’ As you do. Even after he explained why he was doing it, it still didn’t really compute. But on 1 September 2015, just before Ben was setting off, I thought: ‘I might have a go at this running malarkey.’ I got together with my friend Chez and went out for my first run, which was actually a mix of running and walking. We knew he was running in Blackpool and Preston in January, so we thought we’d get up to 5k and do that with him. By Christmas, we’d actually got ourselves up to 10k, and when he came up to Blackpool, we both ended up doing a half-marathon. We were very broken, because that was our first time, but we had an amazing feeling of accomplishment.
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DAYS 173–183: Kyle and I spend Valentine’s night in a nice hotel, but running in Robin Hood’s Bay, just south of Whitby on day 175, I feel slightly listless. I can’t work out if it’s Kyle’s impending departure, a dodgy stomach or the fact I’m on my own with lots of time to think, which isn’t always a good thing. I feel like I’m waning and, to be brutally honest, it just feels like the whole Challenge is starting to wear a bit thin. We’re already making plans for the final day, 226 days away, and discussing setting up a foundation and business once I’ve packed the trainers away. It’s a lot to take on and my mind is muddled. But I’m still looking forward to the next few weeks, back up in the North East. And right on cue, hundreds of schoolkids come out in Middlesbrough on day 177, some running alongside me, others lining the streets and cheering.
