I wonder if it is widely known what this chap from Gloucester is up to, he’s currently doing a barmy unsupported run from one side of Canada to the other, collecting for childrens charities. (5000 miles!)

Here’s a link to his website

http://www.jamiemcdonald.org/

He’s done other extreme endurance stuff on bikes which can be seen on Youtube, his progress can be followed by FB, twitter etc.

He’s a ‘just get on with it’ kinda guy and deserves recognition. His achievements are great to watch, very inspiring. Hopefully this guy will stay safe , there’s a huge winter storm brewing, apparently……

Ooh, interested.

Thanks, and shared.

It seems he’s already slaughtered himself over a distance of over 165 marathons, and will have to do another 32 marathons to finish.
Just checked out the weather forecast 😥

Medicine Hat AB

Yeah – just spent 45min going through his last number of vids. Awesome work that man. Will share too

Off he goes again this morning….don’t know how he does it!

[video]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQIpUEkMLpw[/video]

isn’t it a bit irresponsible taking a small child with him?

-24 blizzards…….Jeeeezus!

You may have noticed that I’m behind on my daily blogs, I had the worst day of my life the other day and I’ve been trying to recover ever since. And I suppose sharing this blog with you, can feel slightly embarrassing. Here it is as I continue to run across Canada:

Bent – Not Broken.

I set my alarm for 5am at the hotel in Maple Creek, SK. It would be less than 5 hours of sleep, but I knew I had to get up and get some blogging done before I hit the road for the day.

It was right when my alarm started sounding that I knew something wasn’t right. I felt defeated, broken, completely wiped with no motivation. I instantly played some music on my phone to try and lift my spirits, but even that was only making me more annoyed and upset.

I sat down to start typing my blog, but I wasn’t even motivated to do that. For the first time in this long journey, I had no motivation to do ANYTHING, I was depressed.

It was right then that I received a Skype message from Jamie Richards, my nutritionist from back home. The timing was perfect, “let’s have a chat.” He’s always been there for me, not just as a nutritionist, but as a friend – I knew he’d be the guy to get me going again.

“My anxiety has been through the roof lately Jamie, I’m so edgy, my brain is working a million miles an hour” I told him. A lot of things were coming up lately that I had to come to terms with. Such as realizing that there is no physical way possible, that I could complete my journey in time to be home by Christmas, to spend it with the family. I said to Jamie “I’ve missed Christmas, many a times before, (from travelling) but, this time it’s different. For eight months now, I’ve been running, nearly 170 marathons of hardship, is just too long, I’ve been on the road too long – I can’t take no more. I’m having anxiety as well about finishing this journey. it’s coming to light, that there’s a possibility that I might be able to make this, I’m really scared.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve broke, but I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Jamie said “its understandable to be feeling this way. You’re in a large beautiful country, on the other side of the world, completely alone in an unfamiliar area for much of your time.” He continued, “Try taking 10 minutes each day to take some time and reflect on your family, your friends….”

I put myself in that moment, there and then, the tears instantly started streaming down my face. I was thinking of my family and friends back home. Just as simple as watching an old, bad, black and white film with my Nan after a sunday dinner. What I would’ve done just to be at home popping crackers with my family at the Christmas table. All the tiniest things that I took for granted all these years suddenly saddened me because I was going to miss them.

As I was crying, Jamie consoled me, showing me as much love as he possible could. Once he went offline, I knew there was no option, but to just keep running. I tried to pack up gear into Caesar, I couldn’t. I moped around the room, staring out the window from time to time to see what I’d be facing. Walking over to the mirror to give myself a talking to while I sobbed. This was the most unmotivated I’d ever been and I couldn’t stop crying.

I decided to look at the money I’ve raised online, Canada: $66,265 and UK: £9,346. I know there is a lot of good coming from my journey, but as I looked at all the totals on my computer screen, they were coming up as just digits in my head. The numbers weren’t meaningful and my brain wouldn’t allow myself to think of the impact they would be making on others. For whatever reason, I just felt emotionless and like what I was doing didn’t matter. I was psyching myself out in every aspect.

After hours of crying, I eventually packed Caesar and regrouped, I thought I was ready to face the world, face the run.

It was only a few seconds in, after my first few steps down the road, when I received a phone call from Amisha, the Champion Child for The Children’s Hospital Foundation of Saskatchewan – from Swift Current. I had tweeted a few things about my tears in the morning and her mum must have thought it was a good idea for her to call me. In the sweetest, most angelic voice I heard “Hello Jamie, it’s Amisha. How are you?”

It was right then it hit me again. I didn’t even know what to say or how to answer. In this little girl’s eyes, I was a superhero, and there I was just completely mentally broken down.

I tried to hold it together, “I’m alright Amisha, thank you.” She knew something was up “I hear you’re sad? Don’t be sad” she said. I found it hard to keep my voice together, I was about to cry once more so I had to get off the phone quickly “thank you Amisha, I’m really touched, means a lot, I’m going to have to go” my voice was shaking. Amisha said “Ok Jamie, just know, that everyone loves you.” I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth to say what I wanted to tell her. I just needed to hang up so I wouldn’t start crying again in front of her.

I hung up and the floods of tears started once more – I started to run, hard.

For whatever reason, I became upset and angry with myself for having these emotions. I started yelling, “You think you can BEAT me?! You can’t BEAT me!” I didn’t even know who I was yelling at.

I had completely lost it. I can only imagine what the people in the vehicles were thinking about the crazy man in the red flash costume that was running down the highway, with a baby stroller, yelling at himself?

Up until this point, these were the tweets that I shared:

@MrJamieMcDonald:

“Spoke to @jrnutrition & broke down. He said to start thinking of my family & friends to help you through the bad times, I cried there & then”

“It’s been so long since I’ve broke, I miss my family, been on the road to long. I really appreciate everyone’s support, now, more than ever.”

“The most unmotivated I’ve ever felt, the thought of facing another day, just breaks me.”

“Having a real hard time accepting that I’m not going to make it home for Xmas, nearly 170 marathons, I’ve suffered enough.”

I was about five or six miles into the day, trying to pull myself back together. A man pulled over, to offer me a donation. I was in such an unsettled mental state; I couldn’t even look the kind man in the eye. I didn’t want anyone to see me this way.

Again, I just wanted to be swallowed up in a hole right on the spot. I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but I didn’t want him to see me crying. I wish I had the man’s name, but I was so out of sorts, I didn’t even get that from him. I thanked him for the donation and told him that I must keep on going, I felt so ashamed of myself.

Superman had kryptonite. Today I found mine. It was myself. Today I was my own worst enemy.

It was shortly after then that Captain Ed showed up. It was roughly 7 or 8 miles into the day at this point and I thought again that maybe I had myself calmed down. As I opened up his door, he took one look at me and said, “How are you doing, Jamie?” I didn’t say a word, I broke down, crying my eyes out and climbed into his car.

He seemed very understanding, but didn’t know what to say, he stumbled words in a very caring way. What was he going to say to someone who was completely mentally broken and had just run 170 marathons?

I don’t think he’ll ever know how much I really appreciated him just being there with me for support. In the end he just sat there with me, offered food, and listened.

As I sat regrouping in Ed’s vehicle, a couple showed up, Tammy and Keith Vanderloh, who had been following me on Twitter that morning. They worryingly drove out all the way from Medicine Hat, a one hours drive to see if I was ok. Tammy, right away asked that question that had hit me a couple times already, “How are you doing?”

For whatever reason, I couldn’t get through this question. Once again it set me off. As I started crying, Tammy became upset as well and shed a tear with me.

She was there to offer her help and support as Captain Ed had done for me. After I calmed back down, Tammy was off to arrange a place for me to stay for the evening.

Minutes later a couple of young girls showed up with a donation. They were so bubbly and cheerful. They just wanted to meet me and say hello. I felt so awful due to the state of mind I was in with people wanting to meet me. I chatted with them briefly, but I had to keep going. It killed me to have these girls see me this way. I had to keep running and get things sorted out in my head.

As mentally unstable as I was during this whole day, I just ran and ran with no thought or care. My mind was completely pre-occupied. I didn’t allow myself to think about whether I was cold, tired, or hungry. Although I wasn’t myself, the emotional charge helped me feel physically strong. What also helped were the tweets that I was receiving. I felt they needed to know what I was going through today. I needed their help to get through this.

I was getting tweets from people back home from some really inspirational people. I was using Twitter as therapy to keep me going. I was sending my own tweets out and hanging off of every single word that was coming back to me. I needed as much love as I could possibly get at that point to keep on going. I overwhelmingly received hundred’s of tweets, but here’s a few of them:

@Al_Humphreys “@MrJamieMcDonald what you’re feeling is completely normal on big trips. Keep on, my friend.” (A very well respected Adventurer)

@marceljgarvey “@MrJamieMcDonald keep going mate and think of it has trying to help kids see more xmas’s”
(an English rugby union player)

@ryan_lamb “@MrJamieMcDonald keep your head up mate! So many people rooting for you! Absolute legend and the most determined man I know!” (Another top English rugby union player, awesome supporter of this journey)

@B1ackie “@MrJamieMcDonald you deserve huge spiritual and emotional support for your sterling efforts for such a worthy cause. Reward beyond this life.” (Steve Black is essentially Jonny Wilkinson’s mentor)

@miketindall13 “@MrJamieMcDonald mate you are truly a special bloke, what you are doing is incredible. Stick with it pal!!!” (Mike, is a Gloucester Rugby player and has captained the England team – his support on twitter has been phenomenal since the start of this journey too)

Eventually it started to get dark. Tammy and her husband turned back up again to check in on me. They let me know that they had found me a place to stay for the evening and gave me directions, it would be a day of 28 miles, more than a marathon. With the particular area being so barren and Isolated, there wasn’t a choice. It was raining and I kept on running in the dark on the edge of emotion and continued to feel vulnerable.

I knew I had to get across the Saskatchewan-Alberta border. It was my next mental obstacle that I needed to cross in order to get to where I was going to stay for the night – understandably, exhaustion was kicking in.

At mile 22, a mother and her daughter showed up with two bowls of Tim Hortons chili. They drove 45 minutes from where they live to find me, so I sat in their car. The mother Sonja Selk said, “I heard you had a bit of a rough day.” I kind of half smiled and managed to hold it together this time, as it continued to rain outside. The young girl was completely silent and sat there shyly. The mum was extremely caring and wouldn’t let me lift a finger. As I finished my first bowl of chili, she immediately had a second one there for me.

In the state I was in, Sonja’s caring nature meant the world to me. They allowed me to dry off for a bit while getting some food in my stomach. I left the car with a hi-five from the little girl, Adelena – she beamed brightly – just what I needed to see before continuing on into the dark, into the rain.

A few miles later, Lyle showed up, the man whose place that I would be staying the night at. He pointed out a light to me in the distance and informed me that’s where his place was.

I took off towards the light with the anticipation of getting through another province. The province of Saskatchewan had been so good to me and yet the last day in the prairie province was the worst day of my life.

As I came upon the invisible line, I recognised how far I’ve come (7 provinces down with 2 left to go), I’d made it in to Alberta, I just didn’t know how? I noticed a green sign on the side of the road, I ran over to take a picture, it read, “Thank you for visiting Saskatchewan. Please drive carefully.”