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My Marathon Challenge reached a successful conclusion after I returned to Fuguei Cape, the most Northern point of Taiwan just after Midnight on the 30th April. I ran a Marathon (42.2km) a day for 30 consecutive days and in the final 3 days of my challenge I ran 50km’s a day to ensure that I did not have to run on May 1st. What an incredible adventure it was, with each day providing a unique test. The support I received not only from friends but also the Taiwanese people was overwhelming and heartfelt.

The mountains of the East represented the most demanding aspect of the challenge but my body adapted well to the rigour of the continual up and down hill. In contrast the West coast was flat and allowed me to run at a good pace. As I entered the final week, my body felt strong and this acted as a catalyst to run further than the Marathon distance in the final 3 Days.

During the Month of April, 15 guys completed their first Marathons with me: 5 from The Mighty Shane F.C (Tommy-Boy, Kevin of the Shire, Stevie, Goughie and Andy C ), 8 from Taipei City F.C ( John, Spencer, Steve, Ross, Chris, Tim, Wes and Michael ) and also Kiwi Chris and Celts Steven. Congratulations to each of you.

The support I received from Kevin of the Shire going down the East coast and Keelung Dave going up the West coast was immense. But the person who made this challenge possible for me was a certain Ms Alice Davis. Her hard work measuring the distance each day was meticulous and her support at drink-stops and sorting out accommodation each night was essential. Our daily routine became like clockwork.

I’m sure everyone would agree also that the blog written by Alice has been both informative and entertaining and I would surmise that Alice has a future in Editorial writing. To undertake a challenge like this and be successful requires close friendship and trust in the other person. Both myself and Alice are relatively argumentative as you can detect from the blog entries but any arguments which did arise were always resolved swiftly. We have similar senses of humour so we would find even the most random of things funny.

The highs and lows of each day required both of us to adapt to the moods of each other and Alice’s effortless ability to make me laugh was key in offsetting any potential indifferent moods on my part. By her creating such an environment it allowed my running to flourish and thus achieve my aims. Alice loves an adventure and what an adventure we had. It was without question one of, if not, the best experiences of my life.

The amount of money donated has been fantastic in both Taiwan and the UK. So far over £5,000 has been raised for both Charities. For those who would like to donate to either Cancer Research UK or the Taiwan Foundation for Rare Disorders, log on to www.marathonmad.com where you can donate online or you can donate in cash at any Shane school or direct to Dave Roberts (Shane Head Office) in Taipei. Please dig deep as even the smallest amount will make a big difference.

Cheers,

Neil
neil010780@yahoo.com

8 kilometres before Bali to….. Fuguei Cape!!!!!

Last night we drank and made merriment watching Barcelona take on Man U and talking about girls and football til five in the morning. Kyle’s company was as vibrant and Californified as ever, his energy coming at a great time. As one of Neil’s most bestest friends, Neil was glad he’d had the chance to run with Sir Hollywood yesterday. In the morning, Kyle asks us how we’re feeling about being here on Day Thirty, the horizon so close now it’s magnified, the finish line right there, the twenty-nine previous days that brought Neil here, running each centimetre around the coast of this island, stretching off into the past with the haziness of some surreal dream. Are we excited, Kyle asks, how do we feel? We both deny excitement. We both feel like it’s just another day. The excitement, we expect, will come later on. From experience, we are well aware that any given day can throw up unpredictable challenges. Why should Day Thirty be any different?

Kyle returns to Taipei and we set off back to yesterday’s finish line. In the daylight, I don’t know what was so terrifying. The first six kilometres, though by the sea, is through construction works on the Expressway. Heavy trucks are everywhere, the road’s uneven and scaffolding surrounds us. Following the first break, I manage to lose Neil. He is running so quickly that the perfection of my timing is thrown out completely. I wait for him at the 12km mark for some time oblivious to the fact that he has already run past me. By the time I catch him up he’s run a further five kilometres. I ask, “What happened!? You’re running so fast!” Neil tells me, without a hint of irony at all, that his legs, quite simply, feel “brand new”.

Continuing on we’re in high spirits. On the outskirts of Taipei, in Hongshulin now, the traffic’s fast, the neon lights shine brightly and the streets are busy. Neil whizzes through the buzzing streets and we meet briefly at the break points remarking on this and that. Occasionally, we ponder the fact that today’s our final day, but we know there’s no way to prepare for the fact that tomorrow we won’t be doing this. Neil spots a Subway sandwich shop and sends me back to pick him up something to eat. As he runs on, he stays in the motorcycle lanes in which he normally runs. Our proximity to this junction makes it impossible for him to have read the sign above: Keelung. He veers off to the right. I get the Sub, read the sign, and drive off up the hill… in the left hand lane. Basically, we are following two different roads. Had anyone ever really thought that the finally day would go without a hitch?

After some time, I haven’t seen Neil and he hasn’t seen me. Thankfully, our phones are fully charged and in credit and after a lot of confusion we realise that Neil has run into Danshui, on Highway 2, and I have headed towards Keelung, on the other Highway 2. Yes, it’s true, there are two Highway 2s. Neil’s thirsty and annoyed. We know Fuguei was around 50 kilometres from our start point. There’s no way he wants to be adding unnecessary miles to the day’s run. It could even risk his chances of finishing tonight and we would, after all, find ourselves doing this again tomorrow. Nothing would prepare us for that, either. As luck had it, turning back to find Neil I found a junction for the 2b part of the road and hoped that meant the two Highway 2s could meet again. I find Neil and he’s appeased by the knowledge that the last five kilometres haven’t been run in vain. In fact, I tell him, his route has bypassed a pretty giant mountain. Though we have to take the motorbike back the way Neil came to re-measure the distance, we’re just thankful that, this time, everything has turned out ok. Neil carries on along the 2b until we meet the 2a. All’s back on track.

Kevin arrives to join us again at Fuguei Cape, as he did thirty days ago. He turns up as I wait for Neil at the 42.2km mark, the one Neil’s looked forward to, the one that marks the completion of this challenge, the final marathon, the last marathon of the thirty marathons in this thirty day’s marathon that this whole month has been leading toward, that each step has lead toward. Neil’s joyous to have completed the task he set himself and we stop a while to celebrate and congratulate the Marathon Man. Every single step run, every kilometre covered, every marathon completed by midnight. It’s impossible for us to appreciate the size of the achievement. Looking back is a blur. Someone may as well have picked us up at Fuguei twenty-nine days ago and dropped us here, seven kilometres to the west, now. After a while, Neil’s ready to continue. Finishing back where he started is a kind of supplementary challenge, a fine circular closure to the month we dubbed marathon mad. And so we go on, through the dark, deserted countryside and incongruously passed Frank’s Texan Barbecue (yes, we don’t know either). Neil runs into Fuguei and Kevin and I dismount our trusty bikes to join Neil on the last 800 metres of his journey, from the car park to the light house. Beers in hand, we jog up there to that final point, that point where all of this began and where it will now be laid to rest. The rocks below us flicker beneath the panning spotlight of the lighthouse and the sound of the sea surrounds us, Taiwan, everything.

And, I don’t know really how to say this, but it was not as we expected. In thirty days, I have not seen Neil this flat, this deflated, this underwhelmed. We open our beers and sit there, the only people around, at Taiwan’s most northerly point. But there is nothing to say. Finally, Neil explains his mood and it comes from sheer disappointment. The knowledge that he’s run three UltraMartahons and felt fantastic, the signs that his body has adapted to the rigour and is now feeling at its best ever, the fact that he could keep on going… I think the stopping came as more of a shock to Neil than any one of us could have ever predicted. Kevin makes brave attempts to put the whole thing into perspective for Neil, to explain to him how great his achievement this month has been. But Neil’s desire to push his body to its limits is unfulfilled. I seriously think he’d have felt more elated had he been forced to crawl on broken legs to the lighthouse tonight.

But perspective was perhaps what was lacking as we sat there. And an undeniable sense of sadness at that the adventure was finally over. As we drove away, as we began to leave the story behind, Neil’s mood began to change and everything looked a little clearer. The next morning, at Kevin’s place in Keelung, Neil looked up the definition of an UltraMarathon on the internet as he reflected on one of the real highlights of the month: those peole that ran their first marathons with him. Tommy, Kiwi Chris, Spencer, French Chris, Ross, John, Tim, Wes, Kevin, Colin, Celts Steve, Andy, Hsinchu Steve and Michael- I hope you never underestimate how important you were to this challenge. We cracked open the champagne that would have gone to waste had we opened it last night and listened to Neil, happy once more, as he told of some ideas brewing for his next adventure. Months long stints of UltraMarathons covering thousands and thousands of miles: the Trans-American, the Saharan, the Russian, who knows? I told Neil there and then that should he ever need a sidekick for another hair-brained, crazed, mad and unpredictable adventure, I would more than happily be by his side. So, stay tuned to hear what’s next. Knowing Neil, it won’t be anything you or I could even dream of.

Shinfong to 8km before Bali.

PHOTOS: 3226 3227 3228 3230 3233

We bid adieu to Alex, Steve and Andy and the wondrously delicious tea that is made in their house. The hospitality of the Hsinchu Massif sets us in good stride for the day ahead: Penultimus Dayus (yes, that’s Latin). At the end of the long tunnel, Neil starts strongly thanks to a Subway feast (I’m still shocked that I can eat a footlong in one go. Not one mouthful, one sitting) and listens to a bit of The Streets for some (non)Cockney geezer music. A small preparation for his imminent return to the green-grey lands of Albion. We’re excited and a little in awe of the fact that it’s Day 29. How exactly did that happen?!

I’m happy to see that Dayuan, 29 kilometres away, is very close to Taoyuan International Airport- we must pass the airport today to have any hope left of a timely finish. Later, a sign to Bali. Unfortunately, the Taiwanese one, but a perfect end point for today’s running and start point for tomorrow. The sign says it’s 43 kilometres away. If Neil can run another fifty today, we’re optimistic about reaching Fuguei for the second (and final) time tomorrow night. At 18km, he’s in a lull. This mark means nothing to him when he’s running an UltraMarathon. But soon after he at last solves a tennis player anagram I’d given to amuse himself with some days ago. D. M. Snailwater really was a tough one to crack.

A little belatedly, but as a ball of thunder nevertheless, Hollywood (nick-name Kyle) arrives and runs with Neil. They are best friends in Taiwan and run and chat happily this evening. The run is uneventful bar their ridiculous humour and conversation which I would be so bold as to summarize: girls, football, girls, football, girls, football. The last three kilometres, however, is as though we are making our way through the devastation that follows a nuclear holocaust. The road leads beneath a stretching concrete bridge beneath which a stream of unmanned trucks are deserted. Dogs howl as though they’re salivating for human flesh and planes take off regularly into the sky. It’s like an evacuation is going on around us. But a sighting of life, I hear from Neil and Kyle, occurs beneath the bridge as a toothless woman of the nuclear night approaches them to sell her wares. (I don’t think this is the type of girl they’d been either discussing or hoping for). Further up the road, I wait in an eerie silence of airplane engines and still air. A police car passes, the only other reportable sign of life, and stops to tell me that this place is dangerous. Thanks for that, I think. A monster groans from a place that is far too close to be comfortable. I text Neil. “I’m scared”. He calls to tell me they are speeding and will be there any second. They arrive, my heroes. And Neil has completed his second consecutive UltraMartahon. Neil volunteers to be left at the side of this road, despite the proximity of the unearthly sounds of the birthing monster, while Kyle drops me into Bali and returns for him. I hope against hopes Neil will still be there when Kyle returns…

Houlong to Shinfong.

In Cafe 85, the map comes out. We are behind schedule, though little shocked by that expected news. Neil’s adamant he finishes, if at all possible, on the 30th April. But with three days to go and around 150km to cover, we’re going to have to come up with a plan. So, today is Ultra-Monday. An Ultra-Marathon is anything over the standard distance of 42.2km. Today, for the first time, after twenty-seven days on the road, Neil will attempt a 50km run.

Running on Road 1 through Miaoli County is hilly, but a welcome change in scenery. A cone-hatted farmer walks an ox past me, across the road and into the field yonder. He is as suprised to see me sitting there as I am to see an ox less than two feet from my face. The weather’s cool and fresh after a rainfall and that foresty aroma hangs in the air all around. At 18km, Neil’s debating how best to psychologically tackle this Ultra-Marathon. The halfway point is simple because it is little different to where we usually take the halfway break at 22 or 23 kilometres. But 30km, that has always been the point at which Neil knows he’s on the last leg with only twelve remaining. Today, at 30km, he’ll still have 20km to go. However, he’s not worried. He thinks it’s interesting to debate, on the first attempt, the most effective way of going about the job in hand. We have no phones again today as all our belongings are still at Alex’s place in Hsinchu. A little paranoia creeps in. Distant memories of Day Seventeen are almost tangible.

Yet, everything is going well. Neil is storming through and eager to see what happens to his body past the 42.2km mark. We wonder if he’ll just not be able to run, not take a step further, his legs and mind being so conditioned to this distance. At 38km, we befriend an elderly Taiwanese fellow who works for the Formosa petrol station. He tells us about his Japanese friend who once cycled around Taiwan. Neil tells him what he thinks of that. “Easy!” he says.

At 44km, Neil’s quite simply in disbelief about how fast he is going. “Alice,” he tells me. “This is ridiculous!” We are also pleased, after seemingly having spent four days or more in and around Hsinchu, to finally leave it behind as we see no more signs towards the day’s end for this city of no escape. At the finish, it’s barely later than 11.00. After 50km on Day 28, I think he really can call himself a running machine. More surprises await though. As he approaches me I begin to congratulate him on his first Ultra-Marathon. But he just grabs me and hugs me, smiling, laughing like someone quite overcome with some form of joy, and explains that he can’t stop running. “Let’s go another two!” I cannot believe this madman. He never stops surprising me. So onwards I go, and enter a tunnel with no end. Damned if I’ll wait in the middle of it, I carry on to the exit. Slightly anxious that I’ve made Neil run 53 kilometres instead of the 52 he requested (I’ve learned never to guess how a runner will be feeling at any given point, let alone another quarter marathon on from the usual forty kilometres), I wait at the well-lit tunnel mouth. In no time at all, the rapid footsteps echo nearby. “Woohoo!” I hear. “Yip yip!” He is happy. He arrives. I actually have to talk him into stopping.

Dajia to Houlong.

Three days to go!

Last night’s festivities were reminisced over and relived again this morning as we headed down to the beach for a refreshing swim that booted out those hangovers in a second. Not all stories were joyfully retold, however, as Kyle and Kevin got into trouble with Neil for something naughty they did regarding some sausages.

But there was no ill-feeling and we said goodbye to the merry band of travelers who returned to Taipei for The Mighty Shane FC’s game that afternoon, filled with dreams of a win. (We later learned the dream came true thanks to a Hollywood hat trick). After taking advantage of Alex and Steve’s fabulously relaxing Hsinchu pad, where tea and showers were greatly appreciated and enjoyed, we finally hauled ourselves up of our backsides and headed back to the train station for Yuanli. Our laziness somehow got the better of us today, nothing to do with the countless celebratory drinks, I’m sure, and we’re heading to the start line late. We are meeting Michael, but there’s no way we’ll be there for the meeting time of three. Luckily and coincidentally, it turns out he’s on the same train as us anyway, so we all arrive in Yuanli a little late, but at the same time. I suffer a bout of driver’s block caused by not having paid attention to the route when we arrived in Yuanli a couple of day’s before, though it’s fair to add that it’s true that all Taiwanese towns look the same and can prove difficult to navigate: 7Eleven, Hi-Life, Family Mart, betel nut stand, 7Eleven, Hi-Life, motorbike repair shop, McDonalds, 7Eleven, Family Mart, you get the idea…

Finally, we ask Michael’s taxi driver to drive to Route 61. He, quite understandably, misses the point that we’d like Michael dropped off on the side of the road in the middle of no man’s land, and takes us to the beach instead. The kerfuffle leads to the latest start yet and at 5.40 we are only just about to begin. Knowing Neil has to run an exceptionally quick time today, I must admit that I’m not completely confident when Michael begins to tell us about a twenty mile walk he once completed in Oxford, or was it Cambridge? Does he know he’ll be running at some pace today and will not be allowed to walk a single step? Does he know that if Neil doesn’t finish by midnight that could be the end of the universe as we know it? It turns out I needn’t have worried. They start the marathon at a brilliant speed and Michael doesn’t break out in a sweat all night.

I’ve never been a fan of this Expressway and eight-lane concrete road to hell that is the 61, so we take a side road through a village and manage to rejoin northbound Highway 1. It’s less busy, better lit and far more user-friendly. Or runner-friendly, should I say? The time Michael and Neil are making is amazing. With Michael’s fitness (he’s a central midfielder which I believe involves more running around than a goalkeeper) and enthusiasm they are bouncing off one another, running seven kilometre stints instead of sixes, and talking incessantly about all manner of things, including that oft-discussed topic of the Tsars of Russia. They really are quite a sight. Barely once did I see them without animation and chatter. Barely once did they fail to see me and carried on running by, engrossed in conversation, as I shouted after them to stop.

Just after 10pm, they’re on 32.5km, and wanting to steam on to the end without any further breaks. As luck wouldn’t have it, a mountain appears (from nowhere, may I say. Neil hasn’t had to climb anything steeper than a 10NT shop this past week). As the kilometres pass quickly by, the conversation never fades and I hear later that they’ve discussed everything from French history to influential politicians, from Emile Zola to why England failed to qualify for the World Cup in 1976, from the aforementioned Tsars to more philosophical concerns. I imagine Neil has thoroughly enjoyed this varied discussion.

At the finish line at 11.25, Michael is as composed a gentleman as he has been all day, and I’m sure as he always is. He looks like he could quite happily run again tomorrow. A quick marathon, the quickest to date, and as smooth as silk. The pace was fast, the conversation stimulating and interesting and the day was an absolute pleasure.Thank you, Michael, and congratulations on becoming the fifteenth gentleman, and the final one, to run a marathon with Neil and show quite amazing support in his challenge.

We relay into a town called Houlong and, though there are no hotels, we find a Love Motel in no time. It’s expensive, even with the goodwill discount, but once Neil sees the jet-spa jacuzzi style bath and ridiculously vast amount of cosmetics and bath additives we decide it’s money well spent. Oh, and did I mention the TV- the TV plonked right in front of the bath, so you can watch Star Movies while you soak? The see-through kinky shutters that separate the bedroom from the bathroom, we guess we’ll just have to live with.

Hsinchu Marathon.

What a fabulous day! A day of friendships and achievements, a day of sunshine and frolics, of humour and a fair dashing of pain. Thanks must go to Steve and Alex, the Hsinchu Massif, who organised a brilliant city marathon that boasted coastlines and beaches, paddy fields and country lanes and not a monstrosity of an Expressway in sight. Thanks also to all the people who helped direct the runners and give out water and run errands for McDonalds (?) and yoghurts and Supao and beer. I know full well that this is not an easy job, and giving up your Saturday to provide this invaluable help was immensely appreciated. Thanks also to Andy for writing a great account of the day, a runner’s perspective very refreshing indeed. And, most of all, congratulations to all those who ran, cycled, walked, wailed or swam. In particular to those who completed their first marathons: Steve, Steve, Andy and Colin. Well done! You really made the day unforgettable.

I’m unsure how to do justice to a day like this. So many people made the effort to come, so many people have their own account of the day, with the ones they shared it with, that I’m ill-equipped to provide a rounded documentation. I believe I barely saw Neil all day, which also makes it a little difficult to tell you about him. Though I’d have no qualms betting that he was as entertaining and full of energy as he always is.

We woke early and the wonderful Steve soothed Neil’s and my early morning grouchiness with bacon sandwiches and cups of tea. I was evidently still asleep throughout the trip to the train station but through bleary eyes do recall seeing quite a bunch of people all kitted out in sports gear, limbs randomly spread about the station plaza, doing something called warming up. I was already hot at is was pretty sunny and, instead, attempted to greet such fabulous friends as Charlotte and Andy, if only just to take my mind off the fact that I’d stupidly promised Neil to partake in the act of running. His theory was that I couldn’t accompany him on this month-long saga, this epic adventure of marathons and kilometres, without running a single step myself. I didn’t see why not, but agreed to run a kilometre with him. And that was all I would do. I wanted to enjoy my day. I knew I had to neither measure nor navigate. And I knew if anything went wrong today, it wouldn’t be down to me.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the whole crowd were spirited and looking forward to the day ahead. No doubt some with greater apprehension than others. I’d say some weird looks were flashed our way by the commuters that surrounded us, especially after Alex started off the marathon in a smoky gunfire of banging firecrackers. And so we began. Running with Neil today let me introduce his Shane FC teammates: Hsinchu Steve, Colin Gough, Andy Campbell and Tommy “I’ve already run a marathon back on day one” Maubourgne. We also have Steve of the Celts, a rival but less good football team in Taipei, and Kiwi Chris, who has the same middle name as Tommy but read day four instead of day one. And, Charlotte, Andy Mos Morris, Rachel, Candice and myself who will be running between one and ten kilometres each before retiring onto bicycles (actually, it’s only me who will only attempt one kilometre. The other girls are far fitter and more determined than I who can barely spell stamina, let alone possess any). And, last but not least, Amy, who is the first female to attempt a marathon throughout this trip. I don’t know if that’s because girls are far more sensible than boys or not, but we really are rooting for her.

As we commence, I pretend to be confident about the thousand metres that lie before me like an impassable abyss. Neil is running with me. Andy Campbell and Mos are close by and the banter’s boinged between them like a tennis ball. I don’t attempt to say much, conserving my energy, and take some solace in the fact that Alex (organiser of the day) is looking as stressed as I’ve ever seen him. I understand the anxieties that come with being responsible for a runner or a two. Alex is responsible for more than ten today. Will anyone get sunstroke? Will anyone dehydrate? Will anyone get lost? Will anyone… die? The other runners have gone ahead. I’m thankful not be left alone, though feel like I’m slowing the pace. So much time passes that I finally break my promise to myself that I won’t ask about the distance. “Neil, how far’s left?” Neil spots Alex and shouts to him, “Al, mate, let us know when we reach the first kilometre.” Swear word, I think. We’re not even at the first kilometre? I’m shattered. As it turns out, a ploy was underway and Neil had sneakily masterminded tricking me into running already four kilomteres at this point. I’m so annoyed with him I could scream, but cannot deny a sense of achievement that I would have never expected was creeping in. Neil and Andy went on ahead, and Mos felt sorry enough for me to stay at the back. I promise Mos I’ll run with him a little further and we have a great time catching up and discussing the madness of what Neil’s done in comparison to the minute task I’m nearly dying over. Charlotte’s looking like a world-class athlete and everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. Of course, we’ve only run six kilometres. It really is just the beginning.

Mos’s encouragement and refusal to let me stop finally burn away into meaninglessness as I see Andy, Alex’s flatmate, with the car. That shining silver object, seats within, wheels without, looked as delicious to me as a doughnut does to Homer Simpson. I couldn’t resist. “I quit.” As I head to the car, Andy tells us we’ve run eight kilometres already. Mos fires up like a volcano. “Two kilometres left, Alice! You can do it. Don’t quit now!” Unable to say no to Mos, whose patience and words of encouragement were the only reason in the world that I was still running, we continue on. And, thanks to Mos’s refusal to give up on me and Neil’s stubborn insistence that I run, I completed ten kilometres and felt like a dream. I guess Neil’s right. Though the scale of what we are doing here is monumentally different, there’s no feeling like achieving something you have pushed yourself to do. As we sprint-finished to meet the waiting others, they applauded. I could only look at them and think, “You’ve got another 32 kilometres to go. What!?”

As the Steves, Amy, Chris, Tommy, Andy, Colin and Neil went on, the rest of us hired bicycles and rode the next ten kilometres through a pretty park and down to the ocean. The bicycle paths there were busy with people enjoying their Saturday. Some kind of bird-watching competition was taking place and every so often one would be forced to jam the rusting handlebars dangerously to the right or left to avoid hitting some squatting ornothologer with a bicycle. The baking heat of the day, however, was only mildly eased by the wonderful views and at 20km some casualties occurred. But still looking strong we had Colin who was pretty quiet but wearing a look of determination, Andy, who had taken to wearing an ice-pack on his head and Hsinchu Steve, who discussed with Neil the benefits of Bengay. Bengay, or Benus Gayus as we hilariously call it, has been like honey to Neil’s muscles over the month. But what is this? Steve has some other tube which, he boasts, is only available on prescription. “Tonex’” he tells us, rubbing the cream into his shins and calves, “for dislocated shoulders.”

Some runners rest, some continue, some ride their bicycles round the paddy fields. MacDonalds is ordered and devoured. The lazier among us soak up the sunshine and watch the people who mill around all about us. The final 10 kilometres lead us back to the city so those of us who have been lazy must once again mount our bikes to return. As Chris, who had run on ahead earlier and felt the rigourous toll of attempting two marathons in a month is returned to us on a police motorbike, I wonder how I too can get picked up by a copper and avoid riding my bicycle back. Andy suffers a pretty serious hamstring injury and is obviously in pain for the last ten kilometres or so. Encouraged by Neil and absolutely incapable of giving up, Andy tells me that this is “100 per cent willpower, zero per cent legs.” And his perseverance pays off as we are reaching the end. With the 42.2km mark in sight, the runners burst forth to finish their first marathons. We’re all very proud of them and sit a while, as foreigners are wont to do here, drinking cans of Taiwan Beer with red faces.

And now, as the rulebook says, it’s party time! Our fabulously cool organisers have arranged a trip down south, a few miles past Hsinchu, to Jhunan, where there’s a beach and a bar called ‘The Spot’- the owner has agreed to host our little gathering. I’m a little apprehensive. I know what the beaches of the north are like and there’s usually a lot to be desired. But the beach here is wonderful. Soft sand, palm trees, windsurfers carving their way across the ocean. It’s far beyond what we all imagined. And ‘The Spot’ is a friendly bar straight out of Koh Pha Ngan where reggae style activities take place and surf style dudes hang out. With our discounted kegs of beer we are soon all on the way into a sun-frazzled, alcohol-fuelled descent into silliness. I shall summarise that now, but first a thank you to the staff at ‘The Spot’ and all their customers who donated NT3000 to Neil’s charities.

So evening highlights include:

Awards Ceremony: Afront a vast pink sky down on the beach, medals (yes, real medals!) were presented to those who participated today. Speeches, applause, and circles of solid gold glittered in the last rays of light that day, boasting “I ran the Hsinchu Marathon 2008″.

Westie: (Of course). Well into the depths of the evening, Westie lies asleep on one of the tables a little way away. As we have rooms at ‘The Spot’, I lead him to his bed and wish him goodnight. He puts down his crutches and back pack, turns and follows me back outside. He must be rejoining us, he must have woken up a bit. But he heads straight back to his table, sits down, head in arms, and falls right back to sleep again.

Matt: Unfortunately for everyone else, only Kyle, Zand and Kevin were lucky enough to see the incident with Matt and the train. But we all found it hilarious anyway. The four lazybones didn’t do any running and just headed to meet us for the after-party (very wise, I think). As they arrived at Jhunan station and alighted the train, perceptive Kyle realised something was wrong… “Hey man! Where the hell is Matt?” he must have thought to himself in his American accent. From the platform, Kyle called Matt from his “cell phone”: “Hey man! Where the hell are ya?” Matt replied that he was in the toilet. Though he probably said “restroom”. “No way man! This is our stop dude! Get off the train! Get off the train!” In a panic, and without time to wash his hands, Matt vacated the “restroom” to find the train pulling away and his friends beginning to shrink into the distance. Without a second thought, the voice of Kyle repeating in his head, “Jump off the train, jump off the train”, Matt opened the door and jumped. Off the train. Jumped. And for reasons unfathomable, he failed to choose the side where the platform was. He must have jumped six feet down onto the tracks. No doubt he had the comfort and sympathy of his friends to fall back on, though, for some reason, I can only imagine the three of them, on the platform, doubled over with laughter.

Sat April 26/08, HsinChu

I got up at the ungodly hour of 5am plus 10 or 20 minutes or so of quality snooze time and after packing as light as possible and tying up my seldom used running shoes I proceeded out the door without my cap and sunscreen not realizing I was about to bask in the brilliance of a beautiful, sunny day. My next job was to get to the train station without the benefit of the MRT aka the underground rail service. Was my masterful Chinese up for the task, of course not, so fortunately fellow runner and friend Kiwi Chris although much closer to the start line was already up and at it and guided the taxi driver to my destination after accepting my phone-a-friend request.

I linked up with Colin and Serena in the station as expected, a few minutes shy of 6am, and met Chris on the train when he boarded at Tao Yuan. The colorful cast of characters ranging from runners, to cyclists to interested and helpful spectators was beginning to assemble and the sunshine lifted our mood immediately.

It didn’t take long for our group to come together outside the HsinChu train station and shortly afterwards the Marathon Man himself and guest of honor Neil accompanied by Alice, the robin to his batman, appeared on the scene.

And how does somebody look after 25 or is that 26 days of consecutive Marathons run not to mention living life on the road, and the various stresses that entails, and not sleeping in your own bed. Well, when I first laid eyes upon the pair they looked pretty darn tired to be honest. However, let’s not forget that Neil usually starts his runs around 3pm in the afternoon and must finish by midnight yet due to the group event and blazing sun it was a 9am start which meant almost no recovery time. I was a little concerned but deep down, just like when you’re a kid you know the superhero will rise to the occasion and overcome the dark forces, I was confident that the Neil ‘the Second Name Nobody Has the Slightest Clue How to Pronounce Never Mind Spell’ (his unusual surname was discussed as we ran by the way) Lennon would live to run another day.

After Chris commendably explains to a local Taiwanese lady that we aren’t a visiting sports club (the Mighty Shane FC not withstanding) and several attempts later to convey the concept behind the run(s) and spell the charity website in English we gather the group and we’re off!

For some reason that is unbeknownst to Neil and I, a group of 5 or 6 individuals charge off as if they are carrying the Olympic Torch and are afraid random missiles might be coming there way if they don’t maintain a frantic pace.

The number of runners is the largest it will be all day as Mozza Andy, Rachel and Charlotte opt sensibly to do part of the Marathon on foot and part of it on a bicycle. The sensible choice is supposed to be my decision too yet moments prior to heading off whether motivated by my own personal pride/drive or inspired by the words and presence of the Man, the Myth and the Legend of Neil M. Lennon I begin to push thoughts of coasting on a bicycle farther and farther from my mind.
I start to actually believe that I can run 42 km or 26.2 miles without training. ‘Heck if he can do it 25 times consecutively I can do it once’ seems to be the sentiment shared by the rookies, most of whom have actually done the necessary roadwork in advance, and either encouraged beyond all comprehension by Neil’s exploits and/or personal energy or fueled by vanity and vainglory I cement in my mind the mantra ‘Thou Shalt Not Walk’, banish the idea of cycling to the furthest regions of my mind and glide along peacefully on my own two legs.

As we exit the city proper and its traffic and noise I accompany Neil and he reflects on what he’s experienced while running across the beautiful island and while the overwhelming impression is of the generosity of the human spirit embodied in the Taiwanese people there is sadly ‘the despicable incident’ to report.
The vast majority of onlookers and local residents along the road have been friendly and supportive yet sadly one disturbing event does make you wonder about human nature; Neil was hit from behind by an aging man on a motorcycle and in his own words ‘left for dead’ as he lay on the side of the road and while his odyssey has built many bridges between people an incident like this one clearly shows there is more work to be done.
While Alice has been an integral part of this journey of inspiration in terms of navigating, carrying supplies, supplying moral support and writing this blog commentary her value went beyond those things at that moment and demonstrated the importance of company on such a demanding trek.

After the first 10km I feel great and bask in a compliment about my effortless style of running and even get in on the act myself letting everyone within earshot know that years ago I was a competitive distance runner and remarkably describing myself as having a runner’s body type. Clearly at this point like everyone else, I am underestimating the length and difficulty of a Marathon. After we regrouped at the Fisherman’s Wharf in HsinChu and took many photos and shared a few laughs it was time for the second leg.

From the get go I noticed two things, firstly Steve and Alex had done a terrific job of designing and mapping out the route which carried us along the boardwalk by the sea and provided a panoramic backdrop (to what would later become my very own theatre of pain) and secondly the pace had noticeably quickened from the first leg. It seemed that Neil was either peeved by the jackrabbits bounding off ahead and was getting down to business himself or he was beginning to wake up and naturally hit his stride or perhaps, the thought occurred to me, I was already starting to slow down. In my mind the second leg was the ocean vista part of the journey and also an opportunity for the lads to come together as a group to bond. The 5 Mighty Shaners plus Steve from the Celts and KiwiChris blasted around the panoramic seascape at a quick clip and this heady pace was already starting to take its effects. I was starting to lag behind a bit and by the time we got to the central boardwalk meeting point to eat bananas, use the bathroom and splash cold water on ourselves Amy and Tommy were starting to feel the toll of the lightning fast pace and the scorching hot sun.

After taking a quick break to refocus physically, mentally and spiritually it was time to enter into what I’ll call the rural circuit legs of the HsinChu Marathon. I still felt pretty good after phases 1 and 2 and with KiwiChris powering on ahead in an effort to set a personal best marathon time the core group consisted of the two Steves, Neil, Goughie, myself and Tommy. The idea was to now run the country back roads circuit 3 times and then take it on home back along the ocean boardwalk to the finish line where the lukewarm Taiwan Beer longingly beckoned. We wound past an industrial dump and a golf driving range and then there was long, straight endless road that finally arrived back at the central rest and refueling centre. The turning point for me came profoundly upon reaching the golf range for the first time. I felt a twinge in my left knee sometime after dodging the dried carcass of a legendary 100 Pacer(in my mind anyway), the snake named after how many steps you have once bitten before dropping dead; the conversation at this point got interesting as the lads rallied around each other in an effort to keep going. Although I was a bit hobbled after the first of 3 back country circuits I handled it pretty well and figured I would just shake off the left leg discomfort and keep going.

Quickly refueled and ready for round two of the back roads circuit. I start to lag behind again and believe that mind over matter must prevail so upon arriving at the golf range I gather myself for a surge and catch up with the lads then the competitive juices from Provincial Championships (albeit 25 yrs ago heehee) gone by kick in and I blast past the lads and almost catch KiwiChris in the process. I lap up the praise for my moment of glory thirstily and we prepare ourselves for the final rural circuit.

Having lost track of the fact that this is a ‘Marathon not a Sprint’ I recognize with one rural circuit to go that I’m in a world of hurt now as the left leg is practically dead and if I ever had visions of emulating the great Terry Fox who inspired Neil and this entire adventure here was my chance as I would have to finish the job virtually on one leg. I don’t bother trying to keep pace with the lads and experience the loneliness of the long distance runner firsthand (imagine multiplying this by 100 and you’ve got Neil’s experience) and the only thing that keeps me going is reflecting on the similarity between the scenery here and where my Mother lives back home and dedicating the run to my deceased Grandmother Violet and pleasant thoughts of living loved ones. As I embark down the endless homestretch to the refueling centre Neil joins me with encouraging words. Chalk up an extra mile to the 1000s he has already run ladies and gents! We get back to the recharging zone and Aston Andy not to be mistaken for Bolton Andy or Canadian Andy, who had trained briefly as a Sports Therapist, kindly offers to massage my calf and I gratefully accept (which later buys me 2 or 3 extra miles) and although the main problem is probably scar tissue on the hamstring/thigh (thanks anyways mate) his healing hands are as therapeutic to my soul as they are to my body!

I suck it up now and know I am in for one hell of an ordeal as we need to ramble along the scenic seaside pathway and back to Fisherman’s Wharf (I think but my sense of direction is appalling just ask Kiwi Chris) where the finish line awaits along with our various newfound friends and savory tepid Taiwan Beer, the regular stuff; Neil is the only one privileged enough to drink ice cold Taiwan Beer Gold Medal Edition by special request and rightfully so as believe you me there is absolutely nothing lukewarm about this man, he’s as passionate about life as they come as surely you’ve discovered by now.
Neil and Charlotte (thanks to Rachel and Tommy too) accompany me but really it’s all about my own will to finish at this point and to be honest for the final 6 miles as my body gave out long ago.

After coming this far I don’t care how slowly I have to run I WILL NOT WALK and I WILL NOT STOP I’m just too stubborn and too proud for that my friend! At long last I see the finish line off in the distance (just check out my Facebook picture if you don’t believe me) and the sense of euphoria I feel at this point is overwhelming.

A warm Taiwan Beer has never and will never taste as good as this one does… I made it!

As I thoroughly enjoy my not so cool brew I reflect on the collection of aches and pains that Neil must have felt along the course of this massive undertaking (or at least you would think so) yet watching him during the last 2 miles you would have thought he was jogging over to the Fish and Chip shop to get his order in before it closes rather than tackling this feat of Biblical proportions! Are you having a laugh?

Ultimately, do I recommend running a marathon, definitely.
Do I suggest, training beforehand… abso’bloody’lutely!

Lugang to Dajia.

Starting at 3pm, we hope it’s an early enough start to catch the train to Hsinchu tonight. The Hsinchu Marathon has been a source of great excitement for runner and lazybones alike, and is scheduled for tomorrow. It’s been organised meticulously by Alex and Steve and we hear there’ll be lots of runners and friends taking part. Luckily, we’re not too far behind schedule, but we certainly would rather take the train than ride the motorbike all the way there. Leaving Lugang, the road splits and we ponder whether to take the 61 or the 17. The hundreds of thundering trucks on the 17 seems reason enough to take the other. But road 61 is possibly the ugliest I’ve ever seen in my life. The elevated expressway roars ominously from above, towering down from massive concrete pillars and overshadowing the motorcycle route we are on below. The road’s lined with truck tyre shops, mechanics and the compulsory sprinkling of betel nut stores, the girls in raunchier outfits than usual and the only bit of ‘glamour’ along this polluted, industrialised stretch of hell road. But, it’s flat and even and Neil’s making great progress.

With the iPod uncharged today, Neil’s mind is springing into action and his philosophical mood is taking him on a mental journey thats theme seems to revolve around the nature/nurture arguments. Every six kilometres he updates me with his theorizing and insists I give my opinion so he can mull that over during the next part of his run. Later, we meet some drunk but harmless Taiwanese who are very concerned about why I’m sat on my own in the dark. I try to explain that it’s only 8.00 and, in fact, I’m glad the darkness has erased the monstrous view, but to little avail. When Neil arrives, one of the gentlemen seems genuinely impressed and donates 200NT. The other doesn’t seem to grasp the concept at all. He’s flabbergasted and in disbelief. Neil reckons he thinks the whole thing is preposterous. Good word, I thought.

The finish is smooth and early at 10.30pm. We drive into Yuanli and are fortunate enough to be in plenty of time for the last train to Hsinchu, and we relax on the train with a beer and discuss with great anticipation the excitements that tomorrow holds.

Mialiao to Lugang.

Dave has taken it upon himself to fly the flag as he runs the first six kilometres with Neil today. The wind is still strong, though less strong thankfully than yesterday, and I hope he doesn’t fly away on a gust, especially after he managed to find lattes in desolated Mialiao and brought them to Neil and I this morning. We were sorry to leave our Motel, so homely and wholesome with parking and a privet bush outside.

In contrast to the east coast, for days we’ve passed immense open plains where just crop fields and large pools of water stretch out as far as the distant hills. The open spaces mean the wind is unobstructed and it’s chilly. Without noticing, we have crossed the Tropic of Cancer again, and I see how it acts as an invisible barrier to heat and good weather passing further north than that point.

Neil will, at today’s 34th kilometre point, reach the 1000th kilometre of his expedition. That is some achievement. Even, I think, by his standards. The boys run the first 12.5 kilometres together. I know Neil has enjoyed running with someone again, admiring with his compatriot (Dave’s English despite his Australian accent) the view where the leafless trees near the Jioushei River stretch below fog like an autumn day in England. Fair England! The wind today is “manageable” and at least better than yesterday’s relentless billowing from the north. It swirls around from side to side and towards our runner. Never behind him though. Never with him. Neil swears that never once in his entire athletic life has the wind been with him.

Dave leaves us that afternoon. His help has been more than we could have asked for and I believe neither Neil nor myself even begrudged the fact that he was boarding a flight to Thailand that night. At 20.02, I look at the time and read it as ‘twenty point two’. I wonder if I’ll ever again be able to get on my bike or drive a car without writing down the number on the millimeter before moving off.

At around 9pm on April 24th, standing in the dark by a handsome Taiwanese house just outside of Lugang on Route 17, far off dogs barked and bats flitted across the streetlights as the Super Supao came out as a toast to Neil’s thousandth kilometre. The moment was enjoyed, a second to appreciate how far he had come before setting forth again, so many more kilometres, he noted, still to be traveled.

Almost as a celebrationary treat, Neil finishes his marathon and we head into Lugang to meet Colin. Otherwise known, famed one might say, as Westie. We were a little surprised to be entertaining so soon after Dave’s departure. But we were mistaken, for it was we who were entertained. Laden with sushi and local specialty meat dumplings, Westie had already found us a place to stay and we were soon in the hotel room in stitches over his Scottish humour and delightfully well-told stories (some of which verge on the ridiculous- did you ever meet someone who went to hospital because he broke his arm, and was told by the doctors that his arm wasn’t broken at all, but his leg?). We learned that he’s been following Neil’s progress on the website as avidly as an Englishman watches Neighbours, and as a reward for his support (despite the fact he thought me a gay man) he is now privy to the highly classified top-secret information of what happened on Day Eleven. Via Westie’s mobile phone, Neil and I became audience to a pre-recording of his skills on the Taiwanese harp. And later, despite recent surgery to the Anterior Cruciate Ligament and the braces on his leg, demonstrated the countless highlights of his football career with the energy and physical freedom of movement of David Beckham against Greece… or a Scottish footballer in another competition. I wouldn’t wonder that he won’t attempt the Hsinchu marathon anyway.