by Ben Smith
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My immune system was completely shot, My friend, Farah, brought the flu with her from Geneva and inadvertently passed it on to me, which compounded things. There was also the stress of wondering what was next. People kept asking me: ‘What are you going to do now?’ And all the while I’d be thinking: ‘Please, give me a break, I need some time to process things.’ I was trying to work out what the new normal was, what my new purpose in life would be, because The 401 Challenge had been my focus for so long. The antidepressants were originally to help with sleeping, but I was actually medically depressed and should have started taking them earlier.
Every day of The 401 Challenge I was giving something to somebody. And sometimes if you give too much, there isn’t enough left over for you. It’s like when somebody retires, people say to them: ‘I bet you’ve been looking forward to this day?’ Actually, lots of people are terrified of retirement, because they’ve got used to a routine and something that gives meaning to their lives, and suddenly they’re thinking: ‘What do I do with the next 20 or 30 years of my life?’ And I found myself constantly thinking: ‘Nothing I ever do will be able to match what I just did.’
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Beverley Smith, Ben’s mum: He was quite depressed afterwards, and it did worry me. We planned the Challenge to the nth degree, but didn’t give enough thought to the psychological aftermath. His brother Dan was the same after his rugby career finished: he came out of something that was so focused and organised and suddenly that thing he’d been living for wasn’t there anymore. So Ben must have been waking up every morning and thinking: ‘Why am I even getting up? I’ve done it now. What’s out there for me? What’s my purpose?’ I could relate to it, because since my accident, every day is a challenge and some days my mind isn’t up to it. As a therapist, I used to say: ‘If you believe you can, you will; if you believe you cannot, you never will.’ But I was no good at all that last six months of the 401, which was heartbreaking for me. Thankfully he sought a doctor’s help and was able to speak openly on his blog about his depression and how he’d lost his motivation to run.
Ben is dyslexic and when he was small he’d say to me: ‘Mum, I’m thick.’ I’d say: ‘You’re not thick, Ben.’ But, of course, the bullies were telling him that he was, because he couldn’t spell or read as well as them. Tell someone something often enough and in the end they’ll become that person. Ironically, I used to teach self-confidence classes, when I was a counsellor, but Ben often used to say to me: ‘Why don’t you practise what you preach?’ Because I was told as a young woman that I wouldn’t achieve anything either, that if I didn’t learn to speak ‘properly’, I’d amount to nothing. But Ben will no longer let anything dictate how he wishes to live his life, and that’s all part of the legacy of the 401. We love him, we’ve always loved him, and we’ll love him whatever he does next.
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I was very aware that I didn’t want to jump straight into another challenge. I’d just spent 401 days away from my family and the person I loved, and I didn’t want to become one of those challenge addicts. I wanted to make sure that what I had achieved was consolidated, not dribbled away, and used to do good in the future.
I quickly decided I wasn’t going to do the cool-down as planned, mainly because I’d lost my love of running, which was both a shock and not all that surprising. I’d run 10,506.2 miles in 401 days, put my body through hell, so running was no longer a way of expressing myself, or of de-stressing and clearing my mind. I ran with my local running club a few times, but because it had become so normal, it had become mundane. It wasn’t about finding a replacement as such, because I hoped my love of running would come back, once I was in the right place again. So I took to cross-training instead, which is essentially various fitness classes. Unlike relationships, which you can’t really put on hold indefinitely, you can take running back up when you feel like it. More pressing was establishing a new life and reintegrating myself into society. I had hoped people would take things out of our hands and come to us with all these wonderful plans and ideas, but reality soon set in and I realised we were going to have to build something new from scratch all on our own. I could use The 401 Challenge as the framework for that something new, but I couldn’t dine out on it forever, and didn’t want to.
We knew we had a short time to capitalise on the 401 buzz before creating something else for the press to write about, so I couldn’t really disappear on holiday for four weeks and chill. We’d won a few awards during the Challenge, and it’s always nice to be recognised because it shows that what you did must have been positive. But I was still completely shell-shocked when I was invited to Pride of Britain a few weeks after the Challenge finished, where we won the ITV Fundraiser of the Year award. I was interviewed on TV with a couple of the actors from Cold Feet, John Thompson and Fay Ripley, and they said some lovely things about me. But I’m not very comfortable at those glitzy, celebrity events because to me it doesn’t seem like reality.
I met Theresa May at Number 10, where we spoke about LGBT rights on the patio, and also about her penchant for shoes. I could tell I was just another slot in her schedule, but she was actually really nice. I could relate to her manner, because that’s how I’ve learned to be sometimes – short and sharp, because I’m always moving on to the next thing. I was also invited by Comic Relief to go to the Queen’s Young Leaders Awards at Buckingham Palace. I’m a huge royalist, so I was very honoured. Six of us were picked to meet the Queen in a private line-up. She asked what it was I did, I told her, and she replied: ‘Oh yes, I read about you, you’re a little bit crazy…’ I was so thrown by meeting her that I turned straight to Prince Harry and said: ‘Oh, alright, mate, how you doing?’ He smiled, thank God.
Straight afterwards, I was driven to the Australian High Commission for a dinner. Kyle wasn’t with me, and I didn’t know how to behave. I was thinking: ‘Do I approach people? Just jump into conversations? What happens if they start talking about politics? I don’t have a clue about anything like that.’ So I grabbed a glass of champagne, went down to the basement and sat on the toilet for 25 minutes. I came up just in time for dinner and left straight afterwards. And having dipped my toe into that world, I feel like I don’t need to do it anymore. Kyle loves all that stuff, he’s really good at it. When the Lawn Tennis Association invited us to Wimbledon to show their appreciation for what I’d achieved, Kyle had to tell me: ‘Saying no is not an option. You’re doing this for me, because I did all of that stuff for you.’ We had Centre Court tickets and saw Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal, it was a great day. But I don’t do things anymore that I don’t have an interest in. I know what I like, and I’d rather focus on that, rather than things I don’t enjoy.
When I woke up on the morning of the BBC Sports Personality of the Year awards, in December 2016, I really didn’t want to go. And I mean I really didn’t want to go. I was crying on the sofa, had no control over my emotions. I didn’t want to be that person who had run 401 marathons anymore. I was in a pit of depression, couldn’t drag myself out of bed or wash myself most days. I just felt so lost and had no energy to be nice to people anymore and promote what I’d done. It wasn’t as if I was bored of talking about it, I always retained the passion, but I was simply spent. So putting on a suit, standing in front of millions of people and giving a speech was very low on the list of things I wanted to do. Luckily, Kyle stuck with me, remained my rock throughout. We laugh about it now. He says to me: ‘When you finished the Challenge, I thought it was all going to be shiny and rosy, but it turned out to be the worst couple of months ever!’
The BBC sent a car to Portishead to pick us up, by which time I’d managed to pull myself together, and the night ended up being incredible. It wasn’t so much the amount of people who were there, it was that people had decided I was worthy of a Sports Personality award. I kept thinking: ‘Me? Sport? Personality?’ To me, Sports Personality was abou
t people like Jessica Ennis-Hill, Andy Murray and Muhammad Ali. But it was lovely that people thought I was worthy of receiving something, especially when I found out more about Helen Rollason, for whom the award was named. Helen was the first female presenter of BBC Grandstand, but died in 1999 after a two-year battle with cancer. During those two years, she helped raise over £5m for a new cancer wing at the North Middlesex Hospital, which is why her award is given for ‘outstanding achievement in the face of adversity’. There just seemed to be so much love for her at the BBC.
We arrived in Birmingham and had some lunch with Allison Curbishley, Steve Cram and Paula Radcliffe. I’d met Paula a couple of times but was still star-struck. The whole time I was thinking: ‘Keep it cool, Ben, keep it cool…’ But she was very nice and down to earth. I got suited and booted, and when I arrived at the Genting Arena, nobody from the press wanted to talk to me, because none of them knew who I was! And when I walked in, I looked up, saw 12,000 people and thought: ‘Oh shit…’ There were all these famous faces – Prince William, the Brownlee brothers, Michael Phelps – and I felt like a nobody. I was petrified, absolutely shitting myself for the entire show.
When they started introducing my section, I could feel the butterflies and sickness start to build inside me. I looked at Kyle, he put his hand on my knee, and I noticed people looking at me, probably thinking: ‘Oh, that’s why this bloke is here…’ My video came on, which showed me running on the seafront in Brighton, and the music kicked in – ‘Rise Up’ by Andra Day, which absolutely kills me every time I hear it – and I was gone. I bowed my head and desperately tried to compose myself, while Kyle’s grip on my knee grew gradually tighter. Then a load of members of Birmingham’s Kings Heath Running Club started pouring in, all wearing 401 running gear, and I looked at Kyle and said: ‘You bastard.’
I was an emotional wreck and the walk to the stage, flanked by the Kings Heath guys, all clapping and cheering, was a complete blur. I couldn’t look up, because I knew that if I made eye contact with anyone I’d lose it completely and be standing on stage, in front of 12,000 people and millions of viewers watching on TV, blubbing my eyes out. It would have made for great TV, but I wanted to keep my dignity. The stage was packed with stars. Tom Daley gave me a hug, so did Paula Radcliffe, who also reminded me to breathe. Good advice! Clare Balding and Gabby Logan handed me the award, which is a beautiful thing, by the way, and when the applause died down, I started speaking, while somehow managing to hold things together. Just about. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I knew I didn’t want to bang on about the charity side of things. I just wanted to be honest with people, so I was…
I want to say thank you to the tens of thousands of people who came out and supported this. My life was very, very different four years ago. But I found running as my sanctuary. I found it was my way of being able to express myself and be who I was and not have to lie anymore. I didn’t have any confidence and self-esteem and I was scared about who I was. Running gave me back my confidence, it gave me back my self-esteem. But most importantly, I’m not afraid anymore…
Social media went ballistic, I was even trending second on Twitter – #notafraidanymore. I couldn’t even remember saying it! It was insane. I was interviewed by 5 Live straight afterwards, all the papers picked up on it, and I got to see about 15 of my running club, who were in the crowd but didn’t know I was going to win an award.
When I walked out of the arena with the Brownlee brothers, two of my heroes, and such focused and down-to-earth lads, people were shouting my name. Alistair turned round to me and said, with a wry smile on his face: ‘Oh, it’s like that now, is it?’ In the following weeks, people were stopping me in the street and saying: ‘Oh my God, you were that bloke on SPOTY!’ I took the trophy into schools and kids were asking me for selfies and autographs. I remember handing the trophy to one of them and the look on his face was priceless, it just meant so much to him. I also lent it to Portishead Primary School for a few days. As part of the Portishead Carnival, the school put together a massive truck with 401 written on it, and paraded it through the town.
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Katie Russell, Ben’s biggest fan: If I hadn’t found Ben when I did, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today. I definitely wouldn’t be at uni, and I wouldn’t have been able to open up about what I’ve been through. I’m now such a huge believer in looking at the positives in every situation. Ben teaches us that if you do nice things for someone and listen to them, that person might go off and do the same for someone else. Maybe one day I’ll be able to do for someone else what Ben did for me. He’s played such a massive part in our whole family. But it’s not just us, he’s helped thousands of others to do things they thought they’d never do. And it’s always lovely to hear everybody else’s stories.
Ben is like a little Superman – I only have to catch his eye and he knows what’s going on in my head. It’s spooky, as if he’s got magic powers. When I have a down day, I phone Ben, we have a chat and the next day I’m ready to go again. It doesn’t matter how small the issue seems, I know he’ll always be there for me. Before meeting Ben, I would have just stayed in my room and cried. I didn’t want to trouble people, hear people say: ‘Come on, Katie, stop being silly. Forget about it, move on.’ Because it wasn’t silly to me, I couldn’t move on. And if you get shut down, it makes you feel worse, because you think: ‘Should I not have said anything? Should I not be feeling like this?’ Now I know that talking to someone is so much better than holding it in. Ben taught me that it doesn’t matter what you’re feeling, it’s never wrong.
I was super-excited to have a fresh start at uni, felt like I was ready to be my own person and live my life how I wanted to live it. On the other hand, I was worried that it wouldn’t work out like that. The unknown is a bit daunting. People follow the crowd, stick together, and I wondered how I’d cope with that. But Ben also taught me that if there’s something you don’t want to do, or that you feel uncomfortable with, you don’t have to do it. That’s how you get to the good points in your life. The 401 Challenge was his way of standing up, being who he truly was and going his own way in the world. Going to uni was my way of doing the same, and I’m loving life. I’ve joined a bar mixology society to meet new people while learning how to make cocktails, which I’m sure will come in handy. And I’ve also joined the student RAG, which puts events on and fundraises for different local charities in Bristol. Remind you of anybody?!
Sarah Russell, Katie’s mum: Me and my husband Alex used to joke that Katie might be with us forever, we could just never imagine her leaving home. We got her back to school and she stayed on to do her A-levels, but even then I would have bet my house that she’d never go to university – we just didn’t think she’d be able to cope. She’s now at university in Bristol, and that’s because of the confidence and belief Ben gave her. If she doesn’t want to do something, she doesn’t do it. She realises that it’s about people liking her for being her, not wanting her to be something else. And she’s become this empathetic person. If she senses that somebody isn’t fitting in or appears left out, she looks out for them.
I can’t tell you the difference Ben has made to our lives and how much easier he’s made things. Now we have our whole family back. We thought we’d lost our little girl, but Ben brought her back.
Chapter 15
Just The Beginning
The 401 Challenge became a bit of a movement. It made a big difference to a lot of people’s lives and will always be a part of me. And to know that you’ve changed somebody’s life for the better is a nice feeling. There are people, whose faces I don’t know, who have told me over social media that running with me and taking part in the 401 gave them the confidence to do what they never thought they could. I get blamed a lot for things too – ‘If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be doing all these marathons now!’ But I feel privileged to be in a position where a post on Facebook or something I say in an article or during a TV inte
rview can have a positive effect on somebody. Ultimately, that’s what humanity should be about. And there’s nothing wrong with feeling good about having a positive effect on other people. People confuse it with smugness, but it’s just a nice kind of pride. My mantra is: ‘Make this world a little bit better than it was when you first came into it’.
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Tolu Osinnowo, 401 project manager: I’d always cared about children’s causes, but if it wasn’t for the Challenge and Ben trusting me to do what I did, and telling me that I was really good at what I did, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to go out there and get the job I now have with the NSPCC. I learnt from Ben that it’s OK to acknowledge when you’re not OK and to ask people for help. There’s so much stigma around mental health but I’m so much more open about things now, because of what Ben went through, not only as a kid but during the Challenge. He’d sometimes say to me: ‘I want to give up, I can’t do this anymore.’ Just the thought of failure got him down. But that just taught me that it’s OK to dream big and make mistakes. There are other people out there who share the same mentality and can help you along the way.
