Josh Patterson hasn't quite returned to solid ground. “I'm really good – it's just been a bit mad since coming back,” Patterson tells GQ a couple of days after becoming the first person to complete 76 marathons in 76 days across the UK's 76 cities. “There's been a lot of media, so I haven't had a day to switch off. Which isn't a bad thing – it shows the impact that the challenge has had. Somehow the team and I have managed to take something that – to many – is the worst thing in the world and turn it into something that people have loved and invested in.”
It's a fair assessment from Patterson, whose Road to 1 Million campaign reached new heights with his latest challenge, one that grew support with each mile and culminated on Pall Mall. “When I started the first marathon, I had one person show up,” says Patterson. “At the final marathon, I showed up at Buckingham Palace and hundreds were there waiting. We took over Pall Mall, just hundreds piled up back-to-back.”
It's not the first outrageous challenge Patterson has set himself. It began with the Berlin Marathon, racing in a wheelchair alongside his friend, Ben Tansley, who had been paralysed from the waist down by a motorcycle accident. The next challenge went further – setting the new world record for travelling from John O'Groats to Land's End by wheelchair. Having struggled with anxiety and depression, this drive to achieve something for his close friend gave Patterson purpose in a life that he was struggling to make peace with. “For me, it's really important that whenever anyone is struggling, they can realise that OK, this guy was at the point of suicide many years ago, and here he is now running 76 marathons,” says Patterson. “I'm struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but here, there quite visibly is.”
Running to raise £1 million for the Samaritans, Josh Patterson completed his 76/76/76 with barely a damaged Achilles or spasmed back to show for it. In his own words, here's how Patterson ran through the pain barrier, why he thinks the discourse around mental health needs a refocus, and where his running shoes are taking him next.
Why 76 marathons in 76 days?
Mental illness is a substantial issue right now. I don't think the things that should be done necessarily are, but what I've come to terms with is focusing on what we can do. The Samaritans is a charity that I love deeply – I think the service they offer is incredible. I looked at where they had hubs, and the pieces of the puzzle started to connect: there are 76 cities around all four nations, and there's a hub in each. So not only are we trying to change the narrative around mental illness, but the money we raise will benefit all four countries. For me, it just fit.
Typically, when you think about someone who has depression or struggles with anxiety, 76 consecutive marathons isn't something that would necessarily correlate.
I wanted to be vulnerable. You were going to see the highs and the lows, but what was really important was that when I was having those lows, you saw how the team picked me up to bounce back the following day. That's important: today, it was really bad, I'm physically and mentally broken, but I'll wake up tomorrow. When you're struggling, it's OK to lean on others, the way that I did daily both with my team and with complete strangers.
How to keep going
Going into the challenge, you want to get your water completely bang on, replenish 5,000 calories to ensure your muscles are fuelled and sleep as much as possible to improve any sort of niggle or injury. Unfortunately, when you're in this space, it doesn't always go the way you want. Whenever I enter these challenges, I make peace with myself: it would be great to tick everything off, but if I don't – or I don't have the right shoes, or my clothes are wet and I've not washed them, or I'm getting blisters and sores, whatever it might be – I'm OK with that as well. The minute I set my foot on that start line, it doesn't matter how many things have gone against me – I'm finishing the marathon.
When the ‘why’ behind the challenge is to give a person a reason to live, the things that go against you are quite symbolic. Life works against you in many different ways. You only have two options: give up or keep going. I just had to keep going. No matter how bad I got mentally and physically, having a team that empathetic, supportive and invested meant I knew they would find a solution. From a psychological point, I had that huge arm around my shoulder, which I needed every day.
I'm not a great sleeper, but at the start I was achieving maybe eight and a half hours of sleep because I was so tired. There were definitely times from a physical point when I was so bad, I honestly didn't know how I would run the next day: a good night's sleep was a huge benefit to me.
Trying to get 5,000 calories, I was probably in a negative deficit every day – if I ate 3,000 I was quite lucky. The food wasn't necessarily clean: it's quite a struggle eating rehydrated meals every day, but it was more about making it count. You're not trying to eat to look good, you're just fuelling your body any way you can.
If I had access to a river, the sea, or a leisure centre with a plunge pool, I was doing cold water therapy – that was a game-changer for my legs, just flushing out all of the lactate. I also had some compression boots, which I would try to use 10 minutes before I set off and probably half an hour post-run too. But in all honesty, during those 76 days, you just had to embrace the suck.
The highs and lows
I remember in Northern Ireland, near the beginning, I'd actually run a sensible marathon. I did a small stint where I was just stretching the hamstrings out, picking up the pace, and with about a kilometre to go, my Achilles went: it was absolutely rock solid.
When I tried to jog, it was like running on a plank of wood. It was like a right angle, I just couldn't get any flex on it whatsoever. I'm thinking to myself, there are 76 of these, I don't see how this is going to improve. I went to bed that night pretty anxious. I woke up the next day, and I'm not saying this for drama – I just carried on running. My Achilles in some miraculous way had recovered. The mind is an incredibly powerful thing, and I think sometimes when you take away the luxury of time, and you really force it to do its job, it's pretty impressive to see what it's capable of achieving.
My back also went completely into spasm in Bangor. The last 15k was just absolutely savage. I had to push through pain barriers that I've gone to very few times in my life.
There were so many positives. There was a 27-year-old father of three in Brighton who had suffered a heart attack just before Christmas. He joined us four months later with the intention of running 5k, and ended up running a full half marathon. He was in complete shock: you could see what that meant to him; that it was a real turning point.
The last marathon was so special. Everyone you meet in life will have impostor syndrome at one point. When I started the first marathon of Run for 1 Million, I had one person show up. At the final marathon, I showed up at Buckingham Palace and hundreds were there waiting.
Transitioning back to normal life
I struggle with anxiety every day, but the minute I left for the challenge, I didn't have anxiety for two months. I think that would shock people: how could you not be anxious, waking up and having to run a marathon?
On my way back, I started biting and picking at my fingers. The anxiety was triggered immediately. Your environment is everything, and that was a huge wake-up call. I've gone from what I would perceive as a very peaceful and happy environment to coming back to the real world – whether you're sat in a pub, or in a car, or walking through the streets, you can sense the impact that the world is having on people. It just inspires me to continue doing these challenges.
Finding purpose
What I've realised is that people are not put off because you're struggling. For a while, I was very lost, and I feel like these challenges give me purpose. On a personal level, I love the process that goes into it. I love the fact that I have structure; I love the fact that I've surrounded myself with great people who have my best interests at heart.
I empathise with people that are struggling because I've struggled myself, so I really want to use my platform and these challenges to try and connect with people in a slightly different way. I've come to realise that a panel talk or poetry might work for one person, but it might not work for another. For a large male demographic, neither of those might work, but running a marathon with a bunch of other men might.
Lasting the course
What I did in the past was not sustainable, but I would say what I do now is. I've surrounded myself with a team of incredible people, from strength and conditioning, to soft tissue therapy, biokinetics, physios – these guys are there to advise me. Even now, every decision I make in terms of the rebuild is important: I've lost a stone and a quarter, and my body is going to be very fragile.
There's a really good saying: does it make the boat row faster? In life, if what you're doing doesn't make that boat row faster, then simply don't do it. I need to live by that right now, because [the challenges] could become detrimental.
Before this challenge, I was committing five hours a week to recovery, building the body up to withstand the impact that it would be taking every day, and then running the right mileage. I can honestly say I was the strongest mentally and physically I've ever been. Moving forward, it's about the approach we take to recovery. I guess once the idea of the next challenge is implemented, it's a case of how we work towards that.
What we also need to understand, though, is that tomorrow is not promised. There is an element of needing to be sensible so we don't break ourselves, but at the same time, if I go through life worried about what the future might bring, will I ever be really present and live in the moment? As long as my body and mind enable me to do these things I'll do them, because it's what fulfils me. I actually feel like being slightly more cautious would probably have a greater impact on me. That's not to say it's the same for everyone, but I guess we just know ourselves better than anyone else.
How to take on your own challenge
Focus on the journey, the experience, and what you're going to get from it.
Surround yourself with the right people and make sure you invest in the things that will improve you. Everyone will invest in the training side of things to make themselves stronger, but they completely neglect the recovery. If you can justify going on a night out and boozing then you can justify going to a physio at least once a week, just to make sure that the body's OK. We have one body: if it's going to give you the time to achieve these things, you have to respect it and give it the time back.
What you have to be careful of is not to allow the ego to make the decision – it's the ‘why’ that's important. A lot of people look at this and assume you try to up yourself every time, to go bigger and better. That's not sustainable, because it's going to get to the point where there's nothing left to do. I also don't think that's what an audience needs in order to connect. It can be the smallest challenge – it's the way that you articulate it.
Support Josh's Run For 1 Million here. For more information about the Road to 1 Million campaign, visit joshpatterson.uk.
