Latest news with #recordAttempt
CNN
2 days ago
- Sport
- CNN
Ultrarunner Will Goodge endured hallucinations and sleepless nights during 2,387-mile run across Australia in 35 days
The first nine days, Will Goodge says, felt like a 'revolving nightmare,' an unending cycle of running and eating, running and eating until it was eventually time to sleep. Except when he did try to close his eyes, sleep would rarely feel restorative, only feverish and restless. Hallucinations became an unpleasant and regular occurrence – 'kind of like you're dreaming but awake at the same time,' says Goodge – and a deep, aching sensation had settled into his muscles and bones. At this point, the British influencer and endurance athlete had barely scratched the surface of his record-breaking attempt to run across Australia. Thousands of miles of tarmac still lay in front of him, and the torment felt like it would last forever. 'I was having nightmares about what I was doing, and I just felt trapped,' Goodge tells CNN Sports. 'It felt extremely claustrophobic. Even when I was out there, you're in a great expanse – there couldn't be more space around you. But for some reason, I felt very enclosed and the night seemed to drag out for a long time.' On the 10th day of his record attempt, however, Goodge turned a corner. His body started to adapt, the nights began to feel shorter, and the roughly 68 miles he was running each day, though never easy, gradually began to feel more manageable. By the end, Goodge had what he calls 'five good days' in a row. Having set off from Perth on Australia's western coast, he arrived at Sydney's Bondi Beach on May 19 to a crowd of hundreds, announcing that he had completed the 2,387 miles (3,841.4 kilometers) in 35 days. That works out as 68.2 miles – around two and a half marathons – each day for more than a month. If ratified, Goodge's feat would set the record for the fastest time running across Australia, smashing Chris Turnbull's 2023 time of 39 days, eight hours and one minute. 'It's pretty overwhelming,' Goodge says about completing the run. 'It's definitely ecstasy because you've obviously been through what you could call a traumatic experience, if you like. 'To get out the other side is like a big release of emotion. You're obviously extremely happy, you're emotional. I was tearing up a bit at the end, especially when I was doing my speech. There's just a huge weight that gets lifted off your shoulders … I was just overall confused, overwhelmed, happy, somewhat sad. It was a bit of everything.' Goodge marked the end of his challenge by laying a bouquet of flowers on the Bondi Beach shoreline in memory of his mother, who passed away from Non-Hodgkin lymphoma – a form of cancer affecting the lymphatic system – in 2018. He was raising money for three cancer charities in the UK, US and Australia, drawing inspiration from his mom's illness during the most arduous moments of the epic run. 'Seeing her fight cancer the way she did – and obviously I was with her through the end-of-life care – I have an ignorance to my own suffering,' says Goodge. 'I've seen someone go through worse, and the fact that I choose to do this kind of thing means that when it does get tough, I can think back to that or think about my mom. 'I have no reason to complain or whine or moan, just keep pushing forward. And I feel like she's with me there every step of the way.' For Goodge, a typical day traversing Australia on foot would start at 4 a.m., his dad greeting him with cereal and a black coffee to fuel the early-morning miles. His coach would then give him a massage or apply strapping – 'my toes,' Goodge explains, 'were taking a hell of a beating' – before the day's first block of running while it was still dark. From there, he would break up the distance ahead of him into roughly seven-mile blocks, pausing at the end of each one to refuel. That might be a high-calorie smoothie, cake, sandwiches, rice, pasta or yogurt with fruit and honey. At the end of the day, Goodge would aim to have shower and eat dinner with his crew, even indulging in a beer or two. 'It adds a layer of normality to what you're doing, rather than the madness of wake up, eat, run, eat, run, eat, run, shower, eat, sleep,' says Goodge. And the beers? 'It's like a small celebration,' he adds. 'If you went out and ran 110, 111k (around 68.5 miles) on any other day, you'd probably do the same.' Goodge describes the run as 'more of a mental battle' than a physical one, 'because your body's always going to fail doing stuff like that.' When it did fail, the results were often gruesome: huge blisters, an injured Achilles that inflamed to twice its size, right shin pain, and ankle issues. In a recent Instagram post, he estimated that he lost more than 10 kilograms (22 pounds) in weight over the course of the run. Several days on from finishing, Goodge says that his feet were still 'very, very swollen and not looking their best.' But his resilience – the thought of quitting never crossed his mind – coupled with the support from his crew and those following online all helped him to reach Sydney relatively unscathed. A former rugby player and model, Goodge is hardly your typical ultrarunner. He's bigger and more muscular than most and posts photos of his glamorous lifestyle – think fancy dinners, swanky hotels and seaside resorts – to his 254,000 followers on Instagram. His growing list of endurance achievements includes conquering the more than 3,000 miles across America between Los Angles and New York, circumnavigating Lake Como in Italy, and running the length of the UK from Land's End to John O'Groats. He's attracted many supporters along the way – even legendary Kenyan marathon runner Eliud Kipchoge sent him a message during the trans-Australia attempt – but also his fair share of critics. Specifically, some members of the ultrarunning community think that Goodge's endurance runs, his pace and the accompanying heart-rate data he posts online, are too good to be true. The most vocal skeptic, runner and athletics writer Will Cockerell, even flew from the United Kingdom to the US during Goodge's run across America to check that the 31-year-old was completing the runs himself, not sharing the watch tracking his progress between members of his team. The encounter and allegation from Cockerell, described as 'watch muling,' is captured on video, though Cockerell found no direct evidence of cheating. Goodge has strenuously denied the claims, hitting out against 'self-proclaimed experts' who 'say they know everything about heart rate.' He also points to the reason that he's running in the first place. 'It's so intertwined with the passing of my mom and trying to make that more than just a sad story,' says Goodge. 'It kind of disgusts me that people would think I would cheat and use my mom's death as a reason to either build my profile, say I'm getting a record, or profit from it. I find that extremely disgusting and probably not everyone knows that. 'But also, I can appreciate the fact that people probably don't like me, which is totally fine. I definitely don't fit in the ultrarunner box. I don't kind of look like one, and I certainly don't act like one. So it's going to come with the territory, and that's fine.' Another criticism Goodge often faces is that his performances in solo challenges seem superior compared to where he has placed at races – though that's something he says he hopes to address. To date, his best race result is an 11th-place finish at last year's Moab 240, a notorious 240-mile ultramarathon in Utah. 'I'm a better athlete now than I was then,' says Goodge. 'So maybe at some of these races … I could be looking for podiums, not just be that guy that's run across some countries and has one record. Be like: no, I'm a serious player in one of the real race formats as well. I think that would make me a more well-rounded athlete and taken maybe more seriously again.' As for getting his trans Australia run ratified as a record, Goodge says that he and his team have compiled signed witness statements from the challenge, which they will submit to Guinness World Records along with the data uploaded to fitness tracking app Strava. 'There's a few boxes to tick,' he says. 'I feel like we've gone over and above what would usually be done for this kind of thing. I'm confident it will all go through.' For now, Goodge has 'nothing major' on the horizon – perhaps a team event in Iceland this August, but no plans to run across more countries any time soon. If he does take on another, he says that the memory of his mother will motivate him above anything else. 'In these things, the connection (with her) feels really true and really deep,' adds Goodge. 'It's probably why I keep going back and doing it more.'
CNN
2 days ago
- Sport
- CNN
Ultrarunner Will Goodge endured hallucinations and sleepless nights during 2,387-mile run across Australia in 35 days
The first nine days, Will Goodge says, felt like a 'revolving nightmare,' an unending cycle of running and eating, running and eating until it was eventually time to sleep. Except when he did try to close his eyes, sleep would rarely feel restorative, only feverish and restless. Hallucinations became an unpleasant and regular occurrence – 'kind of like you're dreaming but awake at the same time,' says Goodge – and a deep, aching sensation had settled into his muscles and bones. At this point, the British influencer and endurance athlete had barely scratched the surface of his record-breaking attempt to run across Australia. Thousands of miles of tarmac still lay in front of him, and the torment felt like it would last forever. 'I was having nightmares about what I was doing, and I just felt trapped,' Goodge tells CNN Sports. 'It felt extremely claustrophobic. Even when I was out there, you're in a great expanse – there couldn't be more space around you. But for some reason, I felt very enclosed and the night seemed to drag out for a long time.' On the 10th day of his record attempt, however, Goodge turned a corner. His body started to adapt, the nights began to feel shorter, and the roughly 68 miles he was running each day, though never easy, gradually began to feel more manageable. By the end, Goodge had what he calls 'five good days' in a row. Having set off from Perth on Australia's western coast, he arrived at Sydney's Bondi Beach on May 19 to a crowd of hundreds, announcing that he had completed the 2,387 miles (3,841.4 kilometers) in 35 days. That works out as 68.2 miles – around two and a half marathons – each day for more than a month. If ratified, Goodge's feat would set the record for the fastest time running across Australia, smashing Chris Turnbull's 2023 time of 39 days, eight hours and one minute. 'It's pretty overwhelming,' Goodge says about completing the run. 'It's definitely ecstasy because you've obviously been through what you could call a traumatic experience, if you like. 'To get out the other side is like a big release of emotion. You're obviously extremely happy, you're emotional. I was tearing up a bit at the end, especially when I was doing my speech. There's just a huge weight that gets lifted off your shoulders … I was just overall confused, overwhelmed, happy, somewhat sad. It was a bit of everything.' Goodge marked the end of his challenge by laying a bouquet of flowers on the Bondi Beach shoreline in memory of his mother, who passed away from Non-Hodgkin lymphoma – a form of cancer affecting the lymphatic system – in 2018. He was raising money for three cancer charities in the UK, US and Australia, drawing inspiration from his mom's illness during the most arduous moments of the epic run. 'Seeing her fight cancer the way she did – and obviously I was with her through the end-of-life care – I have an ignorance to my own suffering,' says Goodge. 'I've seen someone go through worse, and the fact that I choose to do this kind of thing means that when it does get tough, I can think back to that or think about my mom. 'I have no reason to complain or whine or moan, just keep pushing forward. And I feel like she's with me there every step of the way.' For Goodge, a typical day traversing Australia on foot would start at 4 a.m., his dad greeting him with cereal and a black coffee to fuel the early-morning miles. His coach would then give him a massage or apply strapping – 'my toes,' Goodge explains, 'were taking a hell of a beating' – before the day's first block of running while it was still dark. From there, he would break up the distance ahead of him into roughly seven-mile blocks, pausing at the end of each one to refuel. That might be a high-calorie smoothie, cake, sandwiches, rice, pasta or yogurt with fruit and honey. At the end of the day, Goodge would aim to have shower and eat dinner with his crew, even indulging in a beer or two. 'It adds a layer of normality to what you're doing, rather than the madness of wake up, eat, run, eat, run, eat, run, shower, eat, sleep,' says Goodge. And the beers? 'It's like a small celebration,' he adds. 'If you went out and ran 110, 111k (around 68.5 miles) on any other day, you'd probably do the same.' Goodge describes the run as 'more of a mental battle' than a physical one, 'because your body's always going to fail doing stuff like that.' When it did fail, the results were often gruesome: huge blisters, an injured Achilles that inflamed to twice its size, right shin pain, and ankle issues. In a recent Instagram post, he estimated that he lost more than 10 kilograms (22 pounds) in weight over the course of the run. Several days on from finishing, Goodge says that his feet were still 'very, very swollen and not looking their best.' But his resilience – the thought of quitting never crossed his mind – coupled with the support from his crew and those following online all helped him to reach Sydney relatively unscathed. A former rugby player and model, Goodge is hardly your typical ultrarunner. He's bigger and more muscular than most and posts photos of his glamorous lifestyle – think fancy dinners, swanky hotels and seaside resorts – to his 254,000 followers on Instagram. His growing list of endurance achievements includes conquering the more than 3,000 miles across America between Los Angles and New York, circumnavigating Lake Como in Italy, and running the length of the UK from Land's End to John O'Groats. He's attracted many supporters along the way – even legendary Kenyan marathon runner Eliud Kipchoge sent him a message during the trans-Australia attempt – but also his fair share of critics. Specifically, some members of the ultrarunning community think that Goodge's endurance runs, his pace and the accompanying heart-rate data he posts online, are too good to be true. The most vocal skeptic, runner and athletics writer Will Cockerell, even flew from the United Kingdom to the US during Goodge's run across America to check that the 31-year-old was completing the runs himself, not sharing the watch tracking his progress between members of his team. The encounter and allegation from Cockerell, described as 'watch muling,' is captured on video, though Cockerell found no direct evidence of cheating. Goodge has strenuously denied the claims, hitting out against 'self-proclaimed experts' who 'say they know everything about heart rate.' He also points to the reason that he's running in the first place. 'It's so intertwined with the passing of my mom and trying to make that more than just a sad story,' says Goodge. 'It kind of disgusts me that people would think I would cheat and use my mom's death as a reason to either build my profile, say I'm getting a record, or profit from it. I find that extremely disgusting and probably not everyone knows that. 'But also, I can appreciate the fact that people probably don't like me, which is totally fine. I definitely don't fit in the ultrarunner box. I don't kind of look like one, and I certainly don't act like one. So it's going to come with the territory, and that's fine.' Another criticism Goodge often faces is that his performances in solo challenges seem superior compared to where he has placed at races – though that's something he says he hopes to address. To date, his best race result is an 11th-place finish at last year's Moab 240, a notorious 240-mile ultramarathon in Utah. 'I'm a better athlete now than I was then,' says Goodge. 'So maybe at some of these races … I could be looking for podiums, not just be that guy that's run across some countries and has one record. Be like: no, I'm a serious player in one of the real race formats as well. I think that would make me a more well-rounded athlete and taken maybe more seriously again.' As for getting his trans Australia run ratified as a record, Goodge says that he and his team have compiled signed witness statements from the challenge, which they will submit to Guinness World Records along with the data uploaded to fitness tracking app Strava. 'There's a few boxes to tick,' he says. 'I feel like we've gone over and above what would usually be done for this kind of thing. I'm confident it will all go through.' For now, Goodge has 'nothing major' on the horizon – perhaps a team event in Iceland this August, but no plans to run across more countries any time soon. If he does take on another, he says that the memory of his mother will motivate him above anything else. 'In these things, the connection (with her) feels really true and really deep,' adds Goodge. 'It's probably why I keep going back and doing it more.'
The Independent
23-05-2025
- The Independent
Brothers say morale high despite ‘achingly hard' conditions on Pacific row
Three Scottish brothers aiming to become the fastest people to row across the Pacific have said morale remains high despite 'achingly hard' conditions, as they complete the first third of their record bid. Ewan, Jamie, and Lachlan Maclean, from Edinburgh, are 40 days and some 2,700 nautical miles into their bid to row the 9,000 miles from Lima, Peru, to Sydney, Australia, without an engine, sail or support crew. The trio expect to be on the water for a further 70-80 days, rowing shifts around the clock in their specially-designed 28ft carbon fibre boat, which is named Rose Emily in honour of their late sister, who was lost during pregnancy. As well as battling 30ft waves and blistering temperatures, the brothers are regularly having to suppress thoughts of sharks as they dive into the water to clean the boat's hull, in order to maximise their chances of setting a record time. They are fuelling their journey with a diet of rehydrated meals, desalinated water, and the occasional square of chocolate 'saved for emergencies'. The siblings celebrated reaching the 35-day mark with a special supper of freshly-caught mahi-mahi marinated in lime and soy sauce, with Ewan saying they had 'officially reached the middle of nowhere'. The former Dyson engineer, who has spent much of the journey trying to repair a broken auto helm, went on: 'It's been a grind to get here – this row has been much tougher than any of us anticipated. 'If the auto helm issues don't sort themselves, we might be out here for another 150 days.' He said the brothers knew the row would be 'monotonous', having already completed a record-breaking Atlantic crossing in 2020, but that stretches of the current journey have felt like a 'never-ending purgatory'. Ewan said: 'That being said, we're incredibly lucky to be doing this, just so fortunate to have this incredible once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 'It's type two fun, but that's still fun. 'The messages we've received from home have kept us going through our hardest points and morale is very high right now. We're doing it.' Lachlan, who is due to celebrate his birthday on June 9, said despite the trio being 'not great' at being uncomfortable, they were 'naive enough to start and stubborn enough to finish'. He said: 'We've had dolphins surfing off the bow, whales breaching metres from the boat, and waves soaking everything just as we get dry. 'It's brutal, brilliant, and bizarre in equal measure. Sometimes the lows are unavoidable, but they always pass. Looking for the positives goes a long way out here. 'Would I get off the boat tomorrow if I could? Genuinely, I don't think I would. 'Even though it's been achingly hard, we're drawn to what lies in the uncharted waters beyond 35 days at sea.' The brothers have distracted themselves from discomforts including salt sores, mental fog and rowing blisters with music sessions and tending to a miniature lettuce garden planted in a Tupperware box. Jamie said it is the 'little things' that keep them going. 'At times it's tough. Same weather. Same food. Same crap rowing. Same crap company. Terrible sleep,' he said. 'Then do it again. And again. And again, I've found solace inside my Tupperware box. I've always enjoyed the process of planting things. 'Time will tell if we see any life from this odd-looking lunch box, but it's been a welcome distraction to the afternoon slump. 'Fishing has been another highlight and I daydream of tuna steaks and a crisp, fresh side salad.' The Rare Whisky 101 Pacific Row aims to raise more than £1 million for The Maclean Foundation, a clean water charity the brothers launched with their father Charles following their 2020 record journey.
Yahoo
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
When an attempt to break a world record in Bournemouth was a 'miserable failure'
The summer sun beat down on Bournemouth during what was hoped to be a record-breaking spectacle. Alas, the ambitious attempt to forge the world's longest conga line, a highlight of the Bournemouth Regatta and Carnival on August 7, 1979, unravelled into what was unceremoniously dubbed a "miserable failure." These were the stark, and perhaps ironically delivered, words of the event's compere, the aptly-named Tony Fail. He, more than anyone, felt the sting as the final count revealed a conga chain that fell short by a staggering margin of more than 7,500 participants. The vision had been grand - a joyous, snaking line of thousands, jigging and jogging their way into the annals of history. The reality, however, was a far more modest affair. A respectable, yet ultimately insufficient, 1,478 enthusiastic individuals joined the line-up on that fateful day. Their collective energy, while admirable, was simply not enough to eclipse the formidable record of 8,000, proudly held by the seaside resort of Sidmouth.. The target remained tantalisingly out of reach, a distant dream dissolving in the summer haze. Mr Fail, tasked with galvanising the crowds and narrating the hopeful triumph, was left instead to dissect the downfall. He laid the blame squarely at the feet of the thousands of onlookers who, despite lining the route, chose spectating over participating. His disappointment was palpable as he lamented to the Daily Echo. "The sheer number of people who turned out to watch was astounding," he recounted, a note of frustration lacing his tone. "There must have been at least 2,000 souls gathered at the Pier Approach alone, and the clifftops were absolutely teeming with faces. Spectators, standing three deep, flanked both sides of our intended conga path along the promenade." His voice carried the weight of what might have been. "I feel sure, with absolute conviction," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the now-dispersing crowd, "that if every single one of those onlookers had cast aside their inhibitions and joined our merry chain, we wouldn't just have broken the record – we would have obliterated it. We could have easily boasted a magnificent line of at least 10,000 participants, a truly unforgettable sight for Bournemouth." But it was not to be. The day that had dawned with such vibrant promise ended with a whimper, a tale of what-ifs and a reminder that records are not broken by observation alone, but by the collective will and active participation of the many. For Bournemouth in the summer of '79, the conga dream remained just that – a dream, danced by too few. In a seaside spectacle that promised a pulsating ribbon of revelry, the ambitious attempt to forge a record-breaking conga chain in Bournemouth, unfortunately, and quite spectacularly, unravelled into what was succinctly described as a "miserable failure."
