The Man Who Ran The World
The inside story of Nick Butter, the first person to run a marathon in every country in the world •
Nick Butter’s 196-marathon, 675-day odyssey took him…well, everywhere you could go
RW: Where did the 196 idea begin?
NB: I started running when I was very young, so perhaps something like this was always in me, but really it was when I was running the Marathon des Sables and met a man named Kevin Webber. We chatted and I was struck by how happy he was, and then I learned he had terminal prostate cancer.
He didn’t say, ‘You’ve got to do something for prostate cancer,’ but he told me you’ve got to value your life; and he felt most people don’t fully live with intent, they just fumble from one day to the next assuming there is always going to be another. For Kevin, being given just two years to live had made him realise the potential in every day and his story gave me the impetus to think, ‘What can I do with my life?’ Then it was a case of thinking what could I do that couples that with doing something for Kev and raising some money for Prostate Cancer UK.
Why a marathon in every country?
I was initially looking just for something that would raise money, but that morphed into trying to find something that hadn’t been done, and after a few hours’ research I realised nobody had done this, so I thought, ‘Let’s see if it’s possible.’
It must have been a mammoth planning exercise…
From the initial idea it was a two-year journey to get to the start line, getting to grips with the logistics, safety, visas…all of the complications that arise from trying to get around the world very quickly.
It was two years of naivety, of hoping things would fall into place, and of being underfunded from the word go. There were so many elements to consider – for example, we wasted time figuring out if we could work around the weather, but then realised it was impossible to do that on a realistic time schedule.
Some countries must have posed major logistical problems?
We realised there were 15 countries that were going to be difficult for one reason or another.
Iran was very difficult, as my visa was refused, which was also the case with Yemen. Then we had to find parts of the countries where I didn’t need a visa [to slip in]. It took 29 people to get me in and out of Syria safely.
North Korea was another place that was on the difficult list, but that was fine, as the Pyongyang Marathon was one of
the official races I ran in. There were 80,000 people in the stadium, which was insane!
Did you consider trying to run an official marathon event in every country?
Initially, yes, but I quickly realised that even if there were official marathons in every country, it would have taken three of four times as long. I did get involved in some of the bigger ones, where it made sense in the planning and where we thought we could get media coverage to help the fundraising. I ran London, Chicago, the big majors and some other fantastic races around the world that just happened to be at the right time.
When there was no official race option, we tried to arrange our own events. Our first port of call was the British embassy, then the ministry of sport in the country and any other interested organisations or clubs locally. Not big official events with numbers and medals, just for people to join me and to have a start/finish and a water station or two. That happened in about 60 per cent of the countries, which was incredible, and over 50 British embassies were involved.
You actually ran more than 196 marathons on your journey. Why?
I wanted to cover places that are not currently recognised as countries by the UN but might be in the future, to future-proof it, if you like. So I actually ran 211 marathons in total.
How did you decide where to run in each country and what were your highlights?
Where I ran was generally based on safety, heat and, crucially, where was easiest in terms of travel to and from the countries on either side. The clock was always ticking.
About 15-20 per cent of the time I took extra time to get to somewhere special to run. There was Lake Taupo in New Zealand, and I ran an entire marathon barefoot on a beach in Bali – my feet were ruined but it was gorgeous. In Guatemala I ran around a volcano near Antigua; Knysna in South Africa was incredible and in Ukraine I ran on a beautiful track just outside Kyiv in foot-deep fresh snow and dead silence.
The most unusual route was probably around the UN compound in Kabul, but I also ran around the airport grounds in Mogadishu, Somalia, directly under the planes landing. You could almost touch them but it was also right next to the waves and the beautiful coastline.
In the cities I tried to take in lots of landmarks. You can see an awful lot in 26 miles, especially when you’re running at a pace where you can take things in and chat to people.
You encouraged people to join your runs. Who were the most memorable people you ran with?
I ran with Paralympian C2 cyclist Alem Mumuni in Accra, Ghana. He’s an amputee and crutched 10K with me, hopping at my running pace, which was inspirational.
I ran with nine presidents and over 50 ambassadors, with recovering alcoholics and cancer patients in Panama and with over 1,000 people in El Salvador, which was our biggest self-organised event, set up with the help of the ministry of sport and the British ambassador.
But I also did quite a lot of runs on my own, which had both plusses and challenges.
Did you have a support crew?
There was no support crew that travelled with me the whole time, but my friend Danny joined me for a month in Europe, not running, just helping with logistics and keeping me company. Another friend, Andy, joined me for 19 of the runs spread over the two years. Other than that, it was meeting people in-country.
Access to water was a big issue so I hired someone to follow me on a motorbike with water where it was possible, but it was the hospitality and kindness of strangers that was the pinnacle of the trip. And it was often directly correlated to the places where people had the least to give. When I ran out of water in the middle of nowhere in Dominica, a lady who had just filled a bucket from a well shared it with me, saying, ‘Water is life’, which was a pretty special moment. And I drank it because I was so desperately in need of it at the time.
Running along a beach in Oman, a guy appeared and said, ‘Come on and have dinner with us,’ and I met his whole family and had a shower straight from the run. The kindness around the edges of the running was incredible. A lovely lady in Barcelona, who had heard me on the radio, put me up, then drove me to Andorra and supported my run there, then drove me to Nice. It was the people all over the world who made everything amazing.
How long did you have to recover between each run?
On average, I was running three marathons per week, with a bonus day off every fortnight, so it was run/travel, run/travel, run/day off/travel and repeat, which leaves no time for proper recovery. I often had to run at crazy o’clock in the •
morning and then rush to the airport to catch a flight, sleeping on planes with wet clothes in my bag. There were plenty of back-to-back runs, too, so recovery was a challenge.
How did you stay fuelled and hydrated?
As I mentioned, water was a big focus. The average temperature for my runs across the countries in Africa was 44C, so I was getting through around eight litres, which wasn’t easy to carry or pick up en route. I ditched my running bag because there was no point carrying it if I couldn’t get refills. Later, I hit on the strategy of hiring a motorbike rider to follow me with water, but this wasn’t always possible.
Eating was another problem. I lost 10kg in my first two weeks in Africa through not being able to eat enough because of the quick schedule, and issues with availability and safety of food. Over the two years, I had around 35-40 runs with zero food on run day.
I did take 11 supplements every day – multivitamins, probiotics, cod liver oil, amino acids, iron, magnesium – to give my body a chance. My mum prepped a big bag of these pill packets for me, bless her; fortunately, nobody ever questioned them in my luggage.
What sort of pace were you running at?
I really wish more people would pay less attention to pace. I just ran to enjoy it and pace largely depended on who I was running with. If I was with a good runner and we were having a good chat, the pace sometimes picked up, but other times I’d be running with kids or beginners, or I wasn’t sure of the route, which would slow it down. The place was also a big factor, of course – in Le Paz, Bolivia, the route was mainly steps and at 14,000ft; in Nepal, which was the slowest, I was running just south of the Annapurna Circuit and it was really rocky and hilly.
The project was carbon neutral. How did you make that happen?
I worked with a company called Natural Capital Partners. I sent them my flight paths and stats, we added a 20 per cent buffer and they calculated that we needed to offset 45 tonnes of carbon. Then we worked to do that through four projects One was insulating yurts in Mongolia, another was in Guatemala, providing fuel burners that burn wood slower and with less smoke. People often think that to be carbon neutral you have to plant trees, but you can also help to stop the trees being cut down in the first place.
You must have had some tough times, mentally?
The toughest mental part was that I couldn’t hit pause. It was like being on a ride at a fair where you think it’ll be OK because it’ll stop in a minute, except that it just did not stop. I just had to keep going and keep going – dizzy, exhausted, whatever, I just had to keep going.
Part of that stress was knowing that the finish line was a fixed date and hundreds of people were coming out to run with me. I couldn’t tell the Athens Marathon to delay the race and in the last four weeks it was 95 per cent certain I wouldn’t make it, which was so stressful. The mental stress of lining everything up, getting boats at high tide to catch flights, 10 passports, 456 flights going through nearly 600 airports, more than 60 cancelled flights and the rerouting, and the constant race against time, was exhausting.
There must have been times when you felt physically drained, though?
The difficulty of the logistics far outweighed the difficulty of the running, but there were some tough ones. I ran 22 marathons with food poisoning, and a couple with a kidney infection. Bangladesh was one of the hardest because of that infection; it was very hot and humid, and I lost count of the number of times I threw up.
We also believe I had a minor heart attack. I have a heart problem – a dodgy bicuspid valve. It’s the kind of thing you read about when footballers drop dead on the pitch, and I guess another reason to seize the chance to do something like this. It doesn’t bother me too much – every now and again I wake up in the night with my heart racing – but on this occasion it was a big pain in my arm and I was struggling to breathe. I just had to sit down and wait for it to pass.
Over 5,000 miles you must have picked up injuries?
I’m generally fortunate with injuries. The worst was an Achilles tendon. I was running in Prague with a 16-year-old guy whose dad had driven him over from a nearby city. He had never done a marathon before and he was physically
shaking. I was in pain from the previous one and after 10 miles it went, but I took some Ibuprofen and hobbled the rest.
Other than that I picked up a few burns on my legs from motorbike exhausts in cities, and I was hit by a car – just an innocent wing-mirror hit but it shook me and broke my elbow.
Were there any times you felt in real danger?
Yemen was probably the most scary. I was taken over the border by a guy who was smuggling counterfeit goods at 2am in the morning, and I was in a place with bullet holes in the walls, where I could have been locked up indefinitely without any government support. I hadn’t realised all that until it was actually happening, of course.
I was mugged at knifepoint in Lagos market in Nigeria. They surrounded me and kicked me to the floor and I realised there was nowhere to go, but luckily I was with some people and we managed to pay the attackers off in the end.
How about the local wildlife?
I did have a little accident because of an elephant. I saw a herd while running by the Zambezi River; they weren’t bothered by me but I took my phone out to take a picture and fell over!
Then there were dogs...I’ve been chased by dogs all over the world. I was bitten by one in Tunisia and they were a huge problem on some of the Pacific Islands. At the hotel reception in the Marshall Islands, everyone at check-in was handed a key and a stick – that’s how bad it is. I had a pack of at least 20 surround me when I tried to run, which is the kind of thing you don’t plan for because I just didn’t realise it would be a problem. In the end, I had to run 335 laps of a carpark in the rain just to stay clear of the dogs.
Kevin then joined you on the final run in Athens. What was that like?
Emotional. We had a few tears. It was five years and four days since his diagnosis, when he was told he would only live for two years. So it was very special because he genuinely believed at the time of planning this whole thing that he wouldn’t be there for the end of it, and then he ran over the finish line with me.
What do you hope will be the legacy of the project?
The legacy I want from not only this project but from my life is to inspire other people to live life to the full, although I hate using that phrase because the words have been used so much that it doesn’t really seem to mean anything anymore. I want to shake people up to live each day with intent and appreciate the enormous privilege we have not only to be alive, but to be alive in a part of the wold where we have such opportunities.
And what’s next for you?
The whole of 2020 will be a speaking tour. I’m booked in to speak at over 100 schools (and I’d like to do more, so if you want me to speak at a school you’re connected to, please email me at nick@nickbutter.co.uk). I’ll be talking about following your dream and living with intent. The average British person lives for 29,747 days and I’m asking people to think about how many of those days they actually use to the full. Don’t wait for a diagnosis to do something. It doesn’t have to running; it could be anything that makes you happy.