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 24

Born: 1955

791 marathons:

• 1st marathon: 1989 – London

• 100th marathon: 1993 – Dublin (trail)/New York (road)

Records:

• Most Marathons Run by Anyone in the UK.

Fifty-six-year-old carpenter Brian Mills is something of a legend in the running world – not just for completing the greatest number of marathons ever run by a Brit (791 and counting), but also for having a butterfly tattooed on his body for every marathon he has ever run! At least that’s the rumour.

I first met Brian at a hotel in Mallorca – I was helping out on a Running Crazy trip and he was there with the 100 Marathon Club. At that point I hadn’t been asked to write this book and had no idea who Brian was. We had one brief conversation at breakfast the day after the race when we both reached for the orange juice at the same time.

‘Go on,’ said Brian politely, indicating I should help myself to the juice first.

‘Thank you,’ said I, trying to ignore the sight of a brightly-painted butterfly crawling out from beneath the collar of his 100 Marathon Club sweatshirt.

‘Did you have a good run yesterday?’ I enquired, the giveaway sweatshirt lending confidence to my line of questioning.

‘Not really,’ he replied, with a nervous smile.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said, forcing my eyes away from the colourful creature adorning his neck to look him in the face and offer some sympathy.

But Brian had already turned and was walking away from me, which took me by surprise because most runners when asked how their race went are only too happy to regale you with all the details (and I do mean all) – the highs, the lows, the aches, the pains… They don’t care who you are; if you have asked the question, they will give you a mile-by-mile account so that in the end you feel as if you have run the whole thing with them.

Not Brian. Unbeknown to me back then was the fact that behind the longish, greying, wispy hair and tattoos, which might suggest a certain kind of character, lies an entirely different type of person, a quiet, retiring man. So much so that when people who knew him heard I was planning on interviewing him, they wondered how I’d get on with someone so reluctant to talk about his achievements. And if I’m honest, so did I.

Passion, however, is a remarkable thing: it can bring out the shyest of people, and so it proved with the quiet and diffident Brian. Almost as soon as we got chatting, he got into his stride, talking quickly, almost gabbling. His words came tumbling out so fast, they almost fell over one another, exuding passion and enthusiasm and beating shyness hands down. Soon it was evident that his passion is not just restricted to running itself but extends to those he has met as a result of the sport. That friendship and camaraderie has meant a lot to a man who lives alone in a town only a short distance from where he was born and bred.

So, how and when did it all begin?

Well, Brian did cross-country at school, as well as the 1500 metres. He also threw the discus (because no one else would do it), but it wasn’t this that led him to start running marathons. After finishing school, he took up squash but it wasn’t this that led him to start running marathons either: it was watching the London Marathon on television, knowing other people who had done it and deciding he wanted to do it, too.

And so he did, in 1989, aged 33.

‘It was okay,’ he says, before expanding quietly, ‘I didn’t intend doing any more although I had enjoyed it, but somehow I ended up doing four that first year.’ He still sounds slightly surprised by this, almost as though he somehow ran them by accident.

‘And then the numbers increased as the years went by,’ he goes on, unprompted, sounding more as if he’s referring to his age and birthdays rather than marathons run.

‘Then I met some people from the 100 Marathon Club and decided to go for the 100. I think I did my 100th in Dublin, but I can’t remember now for sure.’

He can’t remember? I’m certain if I ran 100 marathons, each and every one of them, but most especially the 100th would be forever etched on my mind, like a permanent scar. Then again, perhaps when you’ve done something so many times, it may be difficult to remember exactly what number went where?

‘But I do know I did my official one – one run on road as opposed to trail – in New York that same year,’ he suddenly adds, rather more positively.

Thank goodness for that! Brian is not a robot after all.

These days, Brian averages around 40 marathons a year, although when we spoke he told me his total for 2011 would be more.

‘In fact,’ he said, ‘it will be the most I’ve ever run as I want to get my total up to 800 by Christmas.’

The mind, not to mention the body, boggles.

Does that mean he’s heading for the 1,000 mark?

‘I don’t think that far ahead,’ he tells me, coyly. ‘I will aim for the 800, then 850, then 900, and so on.’

Beneath the softly spoken words I sense a quiet determination to keep going and would dare to suggest Brian does want that 1,000th run and he doesn’t want anyone to catch him – certainly not in his lifetime. It’s the curse of the front runner: the rest of the pack are forever chasing, baying for blood, breathing down your butterfly-tattooed neck. As soon as you slow down, you risk being overtaken.

(As if to prove my point, a couple of months after this interview I discovered that Brian would be running his 800th marathon in September 2011, three months earlier than originally planned.)

Will any of those numbers take him to the World Record?

‘No,’ he answers flatly. ‘That record is held by a German who claims to have done something like 1,700, although they haven’t all been run in official races.’

We are back to that sensitive issue of what can count towards your total number of marathons.

‘It’s impossible to make comparisons,’ he continues. ‘The Germans can just take themselves off on their own, run what they consider to be 26.2 miles, return home and count that as one of their total. In the UK every marathon must be run within an official race and properly ratified for it to be counted.’

How very English and, in my totally unbiased view, fair. However, I guess that unless an international body is set up to start governing such matters, the issue will remain a thorny one.

So, does the man who has run approximately 21,000 miles, just 4,000 miles short of running all the way around the world, hold any other records apart from the one for having run the most marathons in the UK?

‘Not so far as I know,’ he tells me and if it’s possible to hear a shrug in someone’s voice, I hear it in Brian’s. He sounds totally unconcerned.

So, apart from the numbers, what keeps him motivated?

‘I love running marathons and the social element to the 100 Club,’ he explains. ‘I live alone, so am glad to socialise at the weekends. I also like the travelling. If it wasn’t for running marathons, I wouldn’t have been to half the places I’ve been to.’

His favourite place to run is Holland.

‘Not because it’s flat,’ he says as if to read my mind. ‘In fact,’ he goes on, ‘some of the races there do have some ups and downs but I just love the country, the people and the scenery. I could see myself living there.’

Barcelona is also a favourite.

‘I love the city and the course around it,’ he says.

Not so popular with Brian is the Jungfrau Swiss Mountain Run.

‘The Jungfrau is actually higher than the Eiger,’ he informs me with all the authority that can only come from having run up said offender. ‘It’s the highest in that range,’ he goes on, as if to drive the point home. ‘It took me five-and-a-half hours to complete it. That was a tough one.’

I can almost hear the tired sigh in his voice as he undoubtedly recalls the mountainous challenge.

Not all marathons have to be abroad though, for Brian to give them a go.

‘I enjoy home marathons as well,’ he continues, ‘although I don’t like running in the rain.’

Rain, in England? No worries there then.

‘I’m running a new one in Sussex next weekend,’ he tells me. ‘It finishes at the site of the Battle of Hastings, which I’m very interested to see.’

Fitness, friends, travel and culture… is there no end to the advantages of running marathons? Well, actually, I can spot one disadvantage – if my knowledge of British geography serves me at all well, that’s quite some journey Brian will have to make.

‘Two hundred and forty miles,’ he concurs. ‘I’ll drive there on the Saturday, stay in a B&B on Saturday night, run on Sunday and then drive back after the race before returning to work on the Monday. It’s the same if I’m running abroad, except obviously I’ll fly rather than drive and take a day off work if necessary to fit it in.’

‘I guess you go back to work for a rest!’ I joke.

‘Not really,’ he says, seriously. ‘As a carpenter I work full time, from six in the morning till six at night.’

I wonder how he has the energy to do a manual job and run so much.

His answer is simple: ‘I don’t train at all in between races.’

As a coach that’s hard for me to get my head around. At best, I can accept that at least he is giving his body a chance to recover between races.

And he agrees: ‘I’ve been very lucky with injuries. I do get back pain occasionally and I had shin splints for just over a year once but I carried on running, apart from two weeks off, and they just eventually got better.

‘At the moment,’ he adds, ‘I’m in very good health but you never know what’s around the corner – that’s why I just want to do as much running as possible while I can.’

And that’s also why he’s recently gone on a diet.

‘I was actually overweight and had slowed down a lot,’ he concedes, although personally, I would have to say that the man I met, while maybe not a skinny latte, could in no way be described as overweight.

‘I wanted to speed up again so I went on a diet last December and I’ve now lost two and a half stone in just 14 weeks. Last Sunday I ran my quickest marathon for years in 4 hours 04 minutes. Now I want to get down below 4 hours again. I feel so much better running lighter.’

He has dieted by cutting out all sugar as he believes it’s a really bad thing for putting on weight and has been eating sensibly, with lots of salads and yoghurts.

‘Today, for the first time ever, I tried mackerel with salad and really liked it,’ he says, ‘even though I would say I’m not a great fan of fish, but then I’d never tried mackerel before.’

Despite changes to his everyday diet, come race day Brian still tends to eat the same things he’s always eaten.

‘I usually have something to eat about two to three hours before the race, anything that’s going, really – including a cooked breakfast, if available! And I’m always starving after a race and will have something to eat almost straightaway. I take ready-meals with me and eat them while watching other people coming in at the finish.’

Rather unusually, he always sucks a Halls Mentho-lyptus Lozenge at the start of a marathon.

‘I find it helps with my breathing and stops me getting thirsty before the first water station. After that, I’ll take a drink every five kilometres, preferably a sports drink rather than water, and I’ll also eat bits of banana from feeding stations if it’s available.’

I shut out the image of marathon-running monkeys and turn my attention back to Brian, who is now telling me how much he hates carrying anything when he’s running.

‘It’s a real pet hate of mine,’ he says. ‘I won’t carry water or any other kind of drink or food. I once carried a camera, but got so annoyed carrying it that I threw it away!’

His one piece of advice for aspiring 100 Club members, though, is simple: ‘Never give up, just keep going; you can do it, you just need willpower. It doesn’t matter what anyone says, thinks or does, it is your own challenge and you can do it if you really want to.’

So, does he see a time when he will ever give up?

‘Not unless I am forced to stop.’

It’s an obsession, then?

‘Yes, I think it is.’

So, does that mean he considers himself to be, how can I put this politely, a little crazy perhaps – when it comes to running marathons, I mean?

‘No, I don’t think so,’ he replies. ‘Other people may think so, but not me. Breaking it down, I enjoy the physical activity, the camaraderie and socialising at races and the travel to new and different places. What’s crazy about that?’

Well, when it’s put like that, nothing really.

And what of the butterfly tattoos?

‘I like the colours,’ he says, simply. ‘They’re all based on different species of real butterflies and the guy who does them for me checks them for authenticity.’

And does he really have one done after every race? I mean, are there that many species of butterfly in the world?

‘That’s what they say,’ is the only comment he’s prepared to make.

So, what of the future?

‘I will just carry on running until I can’t go on,’ he repeats his earlier assertion. ‘I would have liked to run London again as it’s one of my favourites (isn’t it everyone’s?) but I can’t because you can now only enter online and I don’t own a computer, nor can I get to the library to use one as I’m out at work all day and the nearest library is in Gloucester.’

Now that just doesn’t seem right: London Marathon organisers take note.