Читать книгу Running Crazy - Imagine Running a Marathon. Now Imagine Running Over 100 of Them. Incredible True Stories from the World's Most Fanatical Runners - Helen Summer - Страница 20

Born: 1948

635 marathons:

• 1st marathon: 1984 – Stevenage

• 100th marathon: 1996 – Boston

Records:

• UK record for the longest set of sequence marathons (111)

• Only Brit to have run a marathon on all seven continents and in all 50 American states

• Most counties of UK/Ireland (58)

• Most countries (50 = with the late Ted Lancucki)

• Most continents in the same year (7)

• Most northerly and most southerly.

Roger Biggs, current chairman of the 100 Marathon Club and self-confessed statistics anorak, does not have the appearance of a man who has run over 600 marathons. Of average height and build, with greying hair and reactor-light glasses, he looks as though he’d be as much at home in a suit and loafers as tracksuit and trainers.

But, as we all know, appearances can be deceptive. For this is a man who describes running marathons as ‘a way of life’; the tracksuit and trainers as much a part of him as his teeth – which are all his own. I have checked. Not by sticking my hand in his mouth and waggling each tooth around to see if it will come free on a plate, obviously, but by asking, politely.

Nobody gets to do 635 marathons by good dental hygiene alone, though. No, indeed, there is only one way to increase the numbers of marathons run and that is to run them. Which is just what Roger did.

‘I did 65 in 2010, 58 in 2009 and around 45 for the previous five years to that. I need to peg it back a bit, maybe to 45 again,’ Roger says.

Forty-five is pegging back?

‘It’s all relative,’ he insists.

Yes, sure, of course it is – to the number of hundreds and thousands in a packet, perhaps.

‘It happened really because of the sequence running…’

Sequence running?

‘Running a marathon or ultra-marathon at least once a week, every week,’ he explains.

Until…? Death, perhaps, or the cows come home? Or, dare I suggest, until the return of sanity?

In Roger’s case it was none of those things; instead it was that impudent Snow Fairy arriving at Gatwick Airport only to dump an entire year’s supply of the white stuff on the ground at once, thus preventing him or anyone else flying anywhere.

‘I managed 111 before the snow grounded me and stopped me continuing the sequence,’ he continues and there’s no mistaking the rumble of annoyance in his voice.

‘That must have been very frustrating,’ I tentatively suggest. (Personally I’d have found it something of a relief and given thanks to the Snow Fairy before showering her with suitable gifts.)

‘It was, very,’ Roger readily agrees, letting out a long sigh as if to relieve all that pent-up frustration.

Despite this, and despite being prevented from breaking the World Record, Roger’s 111 marathons did set a new British record – as far as he is aware.

As far as he’s aware? If I were to put myself through something like that, I would definitely want to know for sure. I guess that’s what he means about running being a way of life. I mean, you don’t consider whether brushing your teeth an extra time each day makes you a World Record holder in teeth cleaning, do you? You just do it. Just as Roger completed 111 marathons. It’s much the same really.

‘People are doing all sorts of things these days,’ he explains, ‘it’s hard to keep up with it and if people don’t belong to the Club, we have no way of knowing what they may have done.’

Given most centurion marathon runners are members of the Club, it seems fairly certain that Roger’s efforts are indeed a record.

But what on earth gave him the idea for such a challenge?

‘Statistics, of course!’

Naturally.

‘I just realised I was running most weekends and thought I might as well turn it into a more structured challenge. I started off thinking I’d do 52, which would be at least one every week. One thing led to another and I thought I might as well go for 100.’

As one does, Roger, as one does…

Apart from not knowing whether or not he had set a new British record, something else Roger didn’t know until his physiotherapist told him was that he was in fact treated for four different injuries throughout the 111 marathons.

I’m pretty impressed by this – I’ve known people treated for four injuries during one marathon, never mind 111. So, does he suffer generally from injuries?

‘Of course,’ he readily admits. ‘Luckily, they’re mostly minor ones when you miss a week or two. The worst I’ve had was when I had a couple of stress fractures back in my earlier days. It took me about two years to totally get over the first one, back in 1986.’

So, returning to the sequence, presumably with four injuries he needed to take some time out?

‘I missed one race on the 19th December,’ he tells me, ‘and then did my next one on the 27th December, so it wasn’t too bad.’

Not bad at all. And there was me thinking he might not have done anything until I met him in Malta in February. Silly me. Of course he was not only there in a running capacity, he was also in Malta as chairman, presenting some of the 100 Club members with various awards. I watched in awe as this apparently ordinary man made speeches, presented medals and socialised with club members, as well as speaking to me, introducing me to various people and giving me heaps of further information about the Club – and that was after he’d run a marathon!

Doesn’t he ever get tired? I mean, running marathons, travelling, socialising, it’s a fairly heavy workload for anyone, never mind for someone who, while not yet in plaid dressing gown and slippers, is probably not in floral print shirts and flip-flops either – even if he does still have all his own teeth.

‘Yes, of course I do,’ he freely admits, ‘but the body is very resilient. And then there’s the endorphins that kick in!’

Ah, so that’s where I went wrong; I should have run and produced my own endorphins. As it is, from my vantage point sitting with a group of the 100 Club, feeling pretty tired just from having left home at four o’clock the previous morning and merely observing others running a marathon, I see a man who is both inspired and inspiring, enthusiastic and encouraging to others and clearly much at home with his ‘running family’.

He says other people are often surprised to find that members of the 100 Club know how to enjoy themselves over race weekend.

And I can vouch for that.

‘We party, drink and stay out late after the marathon – and in some cases before as well!’ he tells me. ‘We are certainly not all in bed by six o’clock! Some drink more than is good for them,’ he adds with a small smile, sounding rather like a slightly over-indulgent father.

‘Often we will go away as a group, large or small, sometimes as individuals, sometimes for a couple of days, sometimes a week. It depends upon the individual runner’s circumstances – some who are working need to get home, others, like me, are retired and can afford to spend more time away.’

And he does. Since retiring from his job in IT in 2007, Roger has been running all over the world.

‘I’ve travelled to the States so much, I’m expecting to get an upgrade from American Airlines any day now! Running marathons isn’t just about the running, though,’ he says. ‘You’re always meeting up with people you’ve met before at other races in other countries and meeting new people, making new friends, experiencing new countries and cultures.

‘I remember when I was in Seattle,’ he continues, his speech now gathering speed, enthusiasm tripping off his tongue, ‘I’d been running about seven miles, wearing my 100 Club shirt and my Christian name on my number. A lady runner came up from behind and asked me if I was Roger Biggs; she was from Australia and the only female Australian to have run over 100 marathons. We ran together up to 16 miles, then she stopped and I carried on.

‘And in Tokyo,’ he goes on, unprompted, ‘I stayed with the family of a Japanese runner I’d met through running. He belongs to the 100 Marathon Club in Japan.

‘Running in Spitzbergen, which, at 78ºN, is geographically the most northerly road marathon in the world was simply amazing. It has the strangest light, with the sun just above the horizon all the time. Despite being June, it was very cold and there was a possibility of polar bears.

‘Then there was Everest…’ At this he shakes his head and blows out his cheeks at the memory. ‘You started at 17,000 feet and it was way below freezing, not the most pleasant of conditions. Mind you,’ he goes on, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘I’ve got a funny story for you, if you want one…’

Always, Roger; always.

‘Well, I’d spent three weeks trekking up to just short of Everest Base Camp. For the whole trip I’d tucked my contact lenses inside my sleeping bag to stop the fluid freezing. One night I didn’t do it very well and my contacts froze. At just the right time hot tea arrived at our tent and my friend suggested I try floating my contact lens case on the tea. I did, and soon all was well!’

Ah, what a lovely, contact-lens warming story.

‘The easiest marathon I’ve ever run,’ he goes on, now seemingly unstoppable, like a rising tsunami, ‘was the Tyrol Speed Marathon, which started in the mountains just inside the Italian border, then ran down all the way into Innsbruck.’

Wheeeeeee! (Or maybe that would only work on a sledge?)

I can see that Roger could probably fill this whole book with the marathons he has run, so I decide to rein him in a little and ask if he has a favourite.

‘Tough one,’ he says.

As he’s rubbing his chin and frowning slightly in a thoughtful way, I assume this is merely his response to my question rather than the name of some hideously testing marathon to which I should have accorded capital letters.

‘I do still like London,’ he eventually says, ‘and have especially fond memories of the 1995 one – which I did with my son – but my favourite trips were to Everest and Antarctica. Others worthy of mention are Capri, Night of Flanders, Barcelona, Comrades and lastly, and maybe the best, the Yakima River Canyon in Washington State. My best American friends are the race directors.’

The best of both worlds, I guess – people and places.

So, was it the idea of all that travel that initially got him started on the road from 0–100?

‘Not at all,’ he says, ‘It all began when I watched the London Marathon on TV and saw a woman in her 70s doing it. I thought, if she can do it, so can I.’

That woman has a lot to answer for – a lot.

‘Do you know 50 per cent of runners start running marathons because of London?’ he asks, interrupting his own story to throw in this apparently vital statistic.

I didn’t, and obediently jot this down with an additional note to self not to watch the London Marathon.

‘I applied for London for two years but didn’t get in, so settled for running in my hometown of Stevenage instead. I remember that first race well,’ he continues. ‘I walked for the first time at about 18 miles on a downhill section, something I tell my training group never to do. Mind you,’ he adds, ‘I always make them warm up and cool down too, but I don’t necessarily do it myself!’

Do as I say, not as I do, eh? But I’m in no position to be casting first stones about the place, so I encourage him to tell me more.

‘I was going okay until the last 100 metres and then I got cramp in my leg and came to a halt. A spectator helped me with a quick calf massage and believe it or not, I was warned for getting outside help!’

So, was the spectator by any chance female?

‘Well, yes, actually, she was,’ Roger admits, with feigned innocence. ‘How did you know that?’

Ah ha! So that’s why he’s run so many marathons!

He laughs, reading my not-so-subtle smug smile all too well.

‘Unfortunately, of all the marathons I’ve run, that’s only ever happened the once!’

Oh.

So what, pray, made him decide to run 100 marathons?

‘It just happened over time. It took me four years to get into double figures,’ he replies, as if he can’t quite believe it himself. ‘Then you just get used to doing them. And who wants to do long training runs? Gradually all your friends become runners, so that’s what you talk about.’

The statistics, however, are never far away.

‘Statistics definitely led me to the choice of where and when to do my 100th,’ he tells me with a commendable lack of embarrassment on his part. ‘I ran my 100th marathon at the 100th Boston Marathon in 1996. I actually ran my 100th 10-mile event, my 100th half marathon and my 100th marathon in consecutive races!’

That was over 15 years ago, but Roger still sounds quite excited.

‘I like statistics, you get carried away,’ he explains.

So it would seem.

‘I think it’s important for everyone to have goals to aim at,’ he goes on.

Not least himself, it would seem for apart from the sequence running record, Roger is the only Brit to have run a marathon in all 50 American States as well as on all seven continents of the world, while within the 100 Club, he’s the only person to have run all the continents in the same year as well as the most northerly (Spitzbergen, North Pole) and the most southerly (Fin Del Mundo, Antarctica) marathons in the world.

‘People will always be chasing something or someone else’s record – it’s good for motivation. That’s why the 100 Club are always trying to think up new competitions!’ he adds, with a twinkle in his eyes.

‘What sort of competitions?’ I ask suspiciously, though I’ve no idea why I should be suspicious. I mean, it’s not as though I’m planning on entering any of them, is it?

‘Oh, things like who can run a marathon in the most countries; who can run the most northerly, southerly, easterly, westerly marathons and we’re currently doing one for a marathon run in the most number of counties in the UK, including Southern Ireland. That’s a potential of 103 counties,’ he informs me, easily spotting the geographical flaw only marginally less than the mathematical flaw in my otherwise incomparable intelligence.

‘Sometimes, though,’ he adds, a worried frown creasing his brow, ‘I do worry that encouraging people to run lots of marathons means you produce slower runners who run a lot of races, rather than people who run fast.

‘I mean, I honestly believe if I hadn’t been running 30–40 marathons a year when I was younger, I could have gone under 3 hours,’ (Roger’s personal best is 3 hours 02 seconds, at the age of 42). ‘It’s too late now, of course, but I don’t regret it,’ he insists, almost defiantly.

‘Running every week is not a good idea if you want to get your times down, as you get no rest so do little training and actually end up running/training less mileage than guys who race only a few times a year.’

So, how much training does he do then?

‘Assuming I race on Sunday, I’m usually in the gym on Monday morning, quite early. I weight train most weekdays; this includes some light CV work. I also do a lot of stretching in the gym. Then normally I would run on the Tuesday evening, usually doing two 5–6 mile runs.’

Presumably he recovers fairly quickly from his marathon efforts?

‘Yes, you could say I recover quickly. Getting out of a car, though, is another matter!’

No good blaming that on marathons, Roger. I have the same problem: it’s called ‘ageing’.

Roger gives me a look that acknowledges the veracity of this. ‘You know,’ he continues, ‘I used to think when I looked at the times of older runners that I would be winning titles all over the place by this age, but I realise now those people who won at an older age won because they were very good runners for their age.

‘My performances at 60+ within the age category are better than when I was in the 50+ age category, but I think this is more down to less people participating due to health, injuries, old age, etcetera rather than me getting that much better.’

Talking of which, does he see a day when he will pack it all in?

‘I don’t know whether I’ll make that decision myself or whether it will be made for me through injury or illness, or some other unforeseen circumstance. You know, in the Club we have a husband and wife whereby the husband has run 400+ and the wife 200+, and the husband says one day he thinks he will just decide that he’s had enough and won’t run another one ever again but I’d don’t know that for myself yet.’

So, if other people are giving up due to age, what will keep him going?

‘The Club,’ he says simply, ‘the friends I’ve made, the after-race camaraderie – comparing notes on the day’s race, that awful hill, previous races, those yet to come…’

And is there anyone who inspires him?

‘Rob in my local club has been a great friend over the years, although he doesn’t do too many these days. We still go for a training run together most weeks.

‘Myself & Jack [Brooks – fellow 100 Club member] go on a lot of events and trips together, and of course there is the Basher versus Dasher stories…’ (humorous reports on the Club’s website reporting the latest in a long-running, light-hearted rivalry between the two – Roger ‘Basher’ Biggs and Jack ‘Dasher’ Brooks – at various races).

‘And then there’s Gina [Little – 100 Club], who picks up a trophy most weeks and doesn’t think she is competitive. Not much!

‘There’s also our two wheelchair athletes, Mike [Marten] and Jerry [Forde] and Blind Paul [Watts] – they’re always an inspiration to the rest of us. Various people from the Club run as Paul’s guide, as and when they are available,’ he tells me.

So, does the Chairman have any advice to give to aspiring 100 Marathon Club members?

‘Don’t do too many doubles [two marathons in two days] and be very careful with shorter distance events. Shorter events can be very good training, but you hit the ground a lot harder. They’re probably okay normally but if you’re just building up the miles, the body is fatigued and then you hit it with some fast stuff.’

What about lucky charms or superstitions?

‘No lucky charms, not me, although I do like to make sure I have a hankie with me.’

Er, why?

‘It just seems a sensible thing to carry.’

Now he sounds like my mother!

‘In case I get a sudden cold or need to wipe my brow or, er, other problems,’ he expands.

Enough information, thank you!

‘As for superstitions, I never wear the race shirt before the race except for trying it on for size. I don’t usually pin the number on until I get to the race and I always try to keep the race number afterwards, for posterity!’

And what about food and drink?

‘I try and get some pasta the night before a race. I will sometimes have breakfast to be sociable but more often than not, it’s a “food bar” and a cup of tea. I really believe in gels [these are similar to sports drinks, but can be taken without water on the run to boost energy and promote recovery]. For a road marathon I would usually take one before and five during the race. It doesn’t make me run faster, but I don’t slow as much in the second half.’

As for any favourite clothing, Roger says he likes to be warm and recommends a zip-fronted, long-sleeved top for the season fringes. Of course when racing, he takes great pride in wearing his 100 Club top.

So how do others react once they know how many marathons he’s run?

‘One hundred is not too bad but when you say 635, they are somewhat surprised.’

As in I am ‘somewhat surprised’ to find that I’m feeling slightly nauseous after a double helping of Death by Chocolate with Cornish clotted cream, perhaps?

So, does he think he’s obsessed with running marathons?

‘I guess I am,’ he answers without preamble, ‘but it’s just as much about ticking boxes as well. A box can be a different state or country or whatever, or maybe just somewhere you want to visit, and the marathon is the excuse. For example, when we completed the six marathons in six days in Northern Ireland, we were taken to see the Giants Causeway afterwards.’

Whether or not he’s obsessed with running marathons, one thing is clear. With his passion for the sport and the generous giving of his time, knowledge and experience to others (as a UK Athletics qualified coach Roger can be found most Tuesdays at his local athletic club, Fairlands Valley Spartans, coaching adult road runners), not only is he ideally suited to the role of chairman, he also epitomises what the 100 Marathon Club is all about.

Certainly, I can’t help but notice that the entire interview has been peppered not only with statistical references but references to other members of the 100 Club, almost as much as to himself.

As we approach the end, I ask if there are any other comments he wishes to make.

‘Just one,’ he tells me, brown eyes twinkling behind his spectacles, the corners of his mouth twitching.

‘Go ahead,’ I encourage, pen poised for still more pearls of wisdom.

‘That was harder than running a marathon!’ he concedes and explodes with mirth.

Coming from a man who likes nothing better than fresh challenges, I shall take it as a compliment.