CNN
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The first nine days felt like a “rolling nightmare” and it felt like a cycle where I didn’t run, eat, run, eat, eat, until I finally got to sleep.
Sleep was rarely recovering, enthusiastic and restless except when he tried to close his eyes. Hallucinations became unpleasant and regular events. “You’re dreaming, but awakening at the same time,” says Gugge – and a deep, painful sensation settled into his muscles and bones.
At this point, British influencers and endurance athletes barely hurt the surface of record-breaking attempts to run through Australia. Thousands of miles of runway still lay before him, and the pain felt like it would last forever.
“I had nightmares about what I was doing, but I felt trapped,” Gugge tells CNN Sports. “It felt very claustrophobic. Even when I was there, you’re in a huge spread. There was no more space around you. But for some reason, I felt very surrounded and apparently dragged out the night for a long time.”
However, on the 10th day of his attempt at recording, Gugge turned the corner. His body began to adapt, the nights began to shorten, and although the roughly 68 miles he ran every day was not easy, gradually it began to become easier to manage.
Finally, Gugge had what he called “Five Good Days” in a row. Departing from Perth on the west coast of Australia, he arrived at Bondi Beach in Sydney on May 19th, and announced that he had completed 2,387 miles (3,841.4 km) in 35 days.
It serves as 68.2 miles (approximately 2.5 marathons) every day for more than a month.
If ratified, Goodge’s feat set a record for the fastest time to run across Australia, breaking the 8-hour and 1-minute time on the 39th of 2023 for Christamble.
“It’s pretty overwhelming,” Gugge said of completing the run. “It is definitely ecstasy, as you have experienced something that you can clearly call a traumatic experience if you need it.
“To leave the other side is like a big release of emotions. You are clearly very happy and you are emotional. I was crying a little, especially when I was making a speech. I have a huge weight lifted from my shoulders… I am overall confused, overwhelmed, happy, somewhat sad.
Gugge marked the end of his challenge by laying a bouquet of flowers on the shoreline of Bondi Beach in commemoration of his mother, who died in 2018 from non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma (a form of cancer affecting the lymphatic system).
He has raised funds for three cancer charities in the UK, the US and Australia, and was inspired by his mother’s illness at the most difficult moments of his epic run.
“Looking at her fighting cancer, like she did — and obviously I was with her through terminal care — I have ignorance of my suffering,” Gugge says. “I’ve seen someone get worse, and the fact that I chose to do this kind of thing means that I can remember it when it gets harder and think about my mother.
“I have no reason to complain, whine or moan, just keep moving forward.
For Goodge, the typical day of crossing Australia on foot begins at 4am, with his dad greeting him with cereal and black coffee, fueling the early morning miles. His coach then gives him a massage or applies a strap – “my toes”, explains Goodge “taking the hell of beats.”
From there, he split the distance in front of him into blocks of about seven miles, pausing to refuel at each end. It could be a high-calorie smoothie, cake, sandwich, rice, pasta, or yogurt with fruit and honey. At the end of the day, Gugge aims to shower and have dinner with the crew, enjoying a beer or two.
“It’s not the insanity of waking up, eating, running, eating, eating, running, showering, eating, sleeping, but adding a layer of normalcy to what you’re doing,” says Gugge.
And beer? “It’s like a little celebration,” he adds. “If you go outside and run 110, 111k (about 68.5 miles) on other days, you’ll probably do the same thing.”
Gugge explains that there is “more mental battles” than physical ones. “Because your body can’t do that all the time.” When it failed, the outcome was often frightening: a huge blister, an injured Achilles, twice its size inflamed, pain in the right shin, ankle problems.
In a recent Instagram post, he estimated he lost more than 10 kilograms (22 pounds) while riding.
A few days after the finish, Gugge says his legs are still “very, very swollen and not doing his best.” But his resilience – the idea of quitting never crossed his mind – combined with support from his crew and those following online, he all helped him reach Sydney relatively unharmed.
A former rugby player and model, Goodge is not a typical ultra runner. He is bigger and more muscular than most people and posts pictures of his charming lifestyle – flashy dinners, fashionable hotels and beach resorts to 254,000 followers on Instagram.
His list of increased achievements for endurance include conquering more than 3,000 miles in America between Ross Angle and New York, patrolling Lake Como in Italy, and running the British length from the edge of the land to John O’Groat.
He attracted many supporters along the way. Even the legendary Kenya Marathon runner Eliud Kipchoge sent him a message in Australia’s attempts – a significant percentage of critics as well.
Specifically, some members of the ultra-arunning community think Goodge’s endurance, his pace, and the heart rate data he posts online are too good.
The most vocal skeptic, runner and track writer, Cockerell, has even flown from the UK to the US while running across America to ensure that the 31-year-old had completed his own run, without sharing a watch that tracks his progress among members of his team.
The encounter and allegations from Cockerell, known as “Clock Mulling,” are filmed on video, but Cocker found no direct evidence of fraud.
Gugge vehemently denied the claim and opposed the “self-proclaimed expert” who “says he knows everything about his heart rate.” He also points out why he runs in the first place.
“It’s so intertwined with my mother’s passing and trying to make it more than just a sad story,” Gugge says. “I feel disgusted that I would think I would cheate and use my mother’s death as a reason to build my profile, to get a record, or to profit from it.
“But I can appreciate the fact that people probably don’t like me. It’s totally fine. I definitely don’t fit in the Ultrarunner Box. I don’t look like it, and I certainly don’t act.
Another criticism Gugge often faces is that his performance in the solo challenge appears to be superior compared to where he placed him in the race, but that’s what he says he wants to deal with. To date, his best race result was Utah’s infamous 240-mile ultra marathon, finishing 11th in the Moab 240 last year.
“I’m a better athlete than I am now,” Gugge says. “So in some of these races… I might be looking for a podium. Not just a guy who has come across several countries and has one record, but I’m a serious player in one of the real racing formats.
Regarding ratifying his TransAustralia execution as a record, Gugge says he and his team have compiled a signed witness statement from the Challenge. They submit to the Guinness World Records along with data uploaded to the fitness tracking app Strava.
“There are a few boxes to check,” he says. “We feel like we’ve raised anything that is normally done for this kind of thing, and I’m sure it’s going to go through it all.”
For now, Goodge has “nothing major” on the horizon. It will probably be a team event in Iceland this August, but I don’t plan on coming across many countries any time soon. If he takes on another person, he says that the memories of his mother will motivate him more than anything else.
“In these things, I feel that the connection (with her) is really true and really deep,” adds Gugge. “That’s probably why I’ll go back and continue doing more.”