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Given most centurion marathon runners are members of the Club, it seems fairly certain that Roger’s efforts are indeed a record.
But what on earth gave him the idea for such a challenge?
‘Statistics, of course!’
Naturally.
‘I just realised I was running most weekends and thought I might as well turn it into a more structured challenge. I started off thinking I’d do 52, which would be at least one every week. One thing led to another and I thought I might as well go for 100.’
As one does, Roger, as one does…
Apart from not knowing whether or not he had set a new British record, something else Roger didn’t know until his physiotherapist told him was that he was in fact treated for four different injuries throughout the 111 marathons.
I’m pretty impressed by this – I’ve known people treated for four injuries during one marathon, never mind 111. So, does he suffer generally from injuries?
‘Of course,’ he readily admits. ‘Luckily, they’re mostly minor ones when you miss a week or two. The worst I’ve had was when I had a couple of stress fractures back in my earlier days. It took me about two years to totally get over the first one, back in 1986.’
So, returning to the sequence, presumably with four injuries he needed to take some time out?
‘I missed one race on the 19th December,’ he tells me, ‘and then did my next one on the 27th December, so it wasn’t too bad.’
Not bad at all. And there was me thinking he might not have done anything until I met him in Malta in February. Silly me. Of course he was not only there in a running capacity, he was also in Malta as chairman, presenting some of the 100 Club members with various awards. I watched in awe as this apparently ordinary man made speeches, presented medals and socialised with club members, as well as speaking to me, introducing me to various people and giving me heaps of further information about the Club – and that was after he’d run a marathon!
Doesn’t he ever get tired? I mean, running marathons, travelling, socialising, it’s a fairly heavy workload for anyone, never mind for someone who, while not yet in plaid dressing gown and slippers, is probably not in floral print shirts and flip-flops either – even if he does still have all his own teeth.
‘Yes, of course I do,’ he freely admits, ‘but the body is very resilient. And then there’s the endorphins that kick in!’
Ah, so that’s where I went wrong; I should have run and produced my own endorphins. As it is, from my vantage point sitting with a group of the 100 Club, feeling pretty tired just from having left home at four o’clock the previous morning and merely observing others running a marathon, I see a man who is both inspired and inspiring, enthusiastic and encouraging to others and clearly much at home with his ‘running family’.
He says other people are often surprised to find that members of the 100 Club know how to enjoy themselves over race weekend.
And I can vouch for that.
‘We party, drink and stay out late after the marathon – and in some cases before as well!’ he tells me. ‘We are certainly not all in bed by six o’clock! Some drink more than is good for them,’ he adds with a small smile, sounding rather like a slightly over-indulgent father.
‘Often we will go away as a group, large or small, sometimes as individuals, sometimes for a couple of days, sometimes a week. It depends upon the individual runner’s circumstances – some who are working need to get home, others, like me, are retired and can afford to spend more time away.’
And he does. Since retiring from his job in IT in 2007, Roger has been running all over the world.
‘I’ve travelled to the States so much, I’m expecting to get an upgrade from American Airlines any day now! Running marathons isn’t just about the running, though,’ he says. ‘You’re always meeting up with people you’ve met before at other races in other countries and meeting new people, making new friends, experiencing new countries and cultures.
‘I remember when I was in Seattle,’ he continues, his speech now gathering speed, enthusiasm tripping off his tongue, ‘I’d been running about seven miles, wearing my 100 Club shirt and my Christian name on my number. A lady runner came up from behind and asked me if I was Roger Biggs; she was from Australia and the only female Australian to have run over 100 marathons. We ran together up to 16 miles, then she stopped and I carried on.
‘And in Tokyo,’ he goes on, unprompted, ‘I stayed with the family of a Japanese runner I’d met through running. He belongs to the 100 Marathon Club in Japan.
‘Running in Spitzbergen, which, at 78ºN, is geographically the most northerly road marathon in the world was simply amazing. It has the strangest light, with the sun just above the horizon all the time. Despite being June, it was very cold and there was a possibility of polar bears.
‘Then there was Everest…’ At this he shakes his head and blows out his cheeks at the memory. ‘You started at 17,000 feet and it was way below freezing, not the most pleasant of conditions. Mind you,’ he goes on, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘I’ve got a funny story for you, if you want one…’
Always, Roger; always.
‘Well, I’d spent three weeks trekking up to just short of Everest Base Camp. For the whole trip I’d tucked my contact lenses inside my sleeping bag to stop the fluid freezing. One night I didn’t do it very well and my contacts froze. At just the right time hot tea arrived at our tent and my friend suggested I try floating my contact lens case on the tea. I did, and soon all was well!’
Ah, what a lovely, contact-lens warming story.
‘The easiest marathon I’ve ever run,’ he goes on, now seemingly unstoppable, like a rising tsunami, ‘was the Tyrol Speed Marathon, which started in the mountains just inside the Italian border, then ran down all the way into Innsbruck.’
Wheeeeeee! (Or maybe that would only work on a sledge?)
I can see that Roger could probably fill this whole book with the marathons he has run, so I decide to rein him in a little and ask if he has a favourite.
‘Tough one,’ he says.
As he’s rubbing his chin and frowning slightly in a thoughtful way, I assume this is merely his response to my question rather than the name of some hideously testing marathon to which I should have accorded capital letters.
‘I do still like London,’ he eventually says, ‘and have especially fond memories of the 1995 one – which I did with my son – but my favourite trips were to Everest and Antarctica. Others worthy of mention are Capri, Night of Flanders, Barcelona, Comrades and lastly, and maybe the best, the Yakima River Canyon in Washington State. My best American friends are the race directors.’
The best of both worlds, I guess – people and places.
So, was it the idea of all that travel that initially got him started on the road from 0–100?
‘Not at all,’ he says, ‘It all began when I watched the London Marathon on TV and saw a woman in her 70s doing it. I thought, if she can do it, so can I.’
That woman has a lot to answer for – a lot.
‘Do you know 50 per cent of runners start running marathons because of London?’ he asks, interrupting his own story to throw in this apparently vital statistic.
I didn’t, and obediently jot this down with an additional note to self not to watch the London Marathon.
‘I applied for London for two years but didn’t get in, so settled for running in my hometown of Stevenage instead. I remember that first race well,’ he continues. ‘I