Sam Boatwright - Wrong Side of the Road

To my brothers and my best friends, Matthew and Luke,

I run to make you proud.

To Kerry, my wife, our challenge is just getting started,
and I cant wait.

Without some incredibly important people I would have never made it across and for your help and love, I thank you. If I have missed you out I can only apologise:

To Mum and Dad, I have no idea why I am able to run like I can, or sit on a bike for as long as I can but I am sure whatever that little part of me that is drive and determination, it comes from you two.

To my brilliant Epic Adventure Team, I cannot thank you enough. You gave up your time and your holidays to make sure I made it across. You laughed with me and you cried with me and you were there when I needed you.

To Anthony Hannan, your wit and intelligence make me want to take you on every adventure with me. We have spent more time in close proximity than two friends should ever have to but you never fail to make me laugh. You sacrificed having your daily shower and you even cleaned the toilet pipe - a true gentleman.

To Matthew Wright, you were there every time I needed your navigation skills, finding roads I dont think Google even knew existed, you are a prince among men and a brilliant human being.

To Helen and Darren Foster, I only hope that Kerry and I are as happy as you two, a more wonderful couple you will not meet. You guys stuck with me in the darkest moments, when the roads tested me and quitting was the easy way out. You guys are grit, determination and happiness personified.

To Saj Hussain, it seems like a lifetime ago that I was sat telling you my ideas about America. Without you thats what they would be ideas. Thank you.

To my (now) wife, Kerry, everyone told us how hard a test it would be, how much we would argue and fall out. We made it, and we made it all the way to Vegas. It was definitely easier to finish knowing I was coming back to begin married life with you. I love you without rhyme or reason, and I look forward to all the challenges to come with you by my side.

To my little brother, Luke, for your editing skills and for permanently correcting my spelling and grammar.

To my eldest brother, Matthew (Trev), for answering the phone whenever I call.

Thank you to Sion and Shelley, I hope to one day repay the favour.

Thank you to every single person that wrote me a message, shared my page, retweeted a tweet, donated to charity, bought us a hotel room or even let us stay with you for a night - you helped me to make the impossible possible and to inspire the uninspired.

April 6th 2012. Blackpool..

Blackpool was cold and unbelievably grim that morning. I will never forget the smell, adrenaline, fear and overwhelming feeling of dread. What the heck was I doing? Who the hell did I think I was? I had never run a marathon, let alone 50 miles. I was about to run 2,500 miles around the UK mainland, 50 miles every day for 50 days. And why.why? I dont think I have an answer to this, even now. Was it an escape from the life I had created? Was I trying to run away from the problems I had made at home? Was I really going to try and run all of these miles? Whatever the reason was, I was off. One foot in front of the other for 50 miles.

The run took me all around the UK mainland, places I had never seen. From Blackpool I pushed North to Carnforth and up the coast to Scotland. Scotland is beautiful, majestic, enchanting and amazingly unforgiving. People are rare in Scotland, there is more wildlife than people. At first this is great, freedom from the norm, after a while the solitude takes hold. It is the solitude that slowly starts to hurt your mind. Pain eats at you in a completely different way. The feeling of overcoming pain is a triumphant feeling, you feel like you have won. The mind, however, is a different beast entirely. It can bog you down for days, months or even years at a time. Trauma or change can make you a different person. Scotland changed me, it broke me down.

A climb called Rest and Be Thankful was one of the toughest days on the run. 7 miles of climbing, stretching out to the heavens, a never-ending path of pain. Much like with any vicious climb in Scotland the view at the top was breath-taking and (quite possibly) worth the tortuous ascent. Throughout Scotland, it has to be said, that I cursed myself for having never seen more of this amazing country. Beautiful lochs, peaceful and still, almost prehistoric, like each one has its own story to tell it is an awe-inspiring place and one which I can only encourage people to go and visit.

I ran out of Fort William on one of the coldest days on the run. As I ran, it began to snow. The snow only made me fight harder to keep moving, another challenge for me to overcome. If I was to break it certainly wouldnt be the weather that would do it. The snow accumulated on the brow of my hat, building up like a mini snow drift. I crested yet another climb, as I did I saw the monument to our fallen marines. I stood and stared at it for a while, a stark reminder of why I was running. You run for those that cant! I told myself and with that I plodded onwards.

I arrived in Elgin, my most northerly point. A quaint little town where we were told we would be lucky to find a room. It was a wet Wednesday in April, we found a room.

Any time you turn a corner and head in a different direction on a run you feel some sense of accomplishment, as of now I would be heading South and back towards England. I began to descend Scotland, firstly through Aberdeen and then into Edinburgh. Much of the running in Edinburgh followed the path of the official Edinburgh marathon. I weaved my way through the narrow busy streets always working back towards England. Entering England on St Georges day was fantastic, a real sense of patriotism filled my veins and I plundered heartily through the miles down the North East coast.

All around the coast of Britain you see spectacular scenery and meet some wonderful people. Running didnt just teach me about what my body would take. It opened my eyes to how fantastic our tiny island is and also to how brilliant the people who inhabit it are. The saying goes never judge a book by its cover. This was never truer for me than on one day in Newcastle. I had stopped for a quick bite to eat, weary and tired the weather had battered me all day. I was not looking for conversation. A young man walked towards me, wearing a baseball cap, and a hoodie - his hood pulled up over his hat, covering his face. Adidas tracksuit bottoms with bright white trainers and pearly white socks beaming out. Here stood a chav, in every understanding and definition of the word. His walk was typically more of a gangster shuffle than an actual walk I was terrified. I could feel my body brace and tense up as he approached, expecting my phone or watch to be stolen. Instead, in a thick Geordie accent he said

Youre that bloke who is running?

(My jaw must have nearly broken my toes. How the heck did he know what I was doing?)

Yes, yes, I am, I replied in complete shock.

Here you are pal.

He handed me some money. I was speechless.

He had just donated to Help for Heroes. Wow. I cursed myself for judging him. I am still to this day astounded by his donation. This young man taught me a valuable lesson and made me see that people could be brought together over something that they believe in. I ran through some of the most deprived areas of Britain and all I saw was generosity and the kindness of strangers.

The East coast of England gave me some of the toughest weather conditions on the run. A bruising barrage of rain, sleet, wind and snow hammered against my body, unrelenting in its attempt to break me. Along the coast we went, Whitby, Bridlington, Filey, Skegness - we passed many seaside towns, some benefitting from recent investment, others in need of a great deal of help.