Gary McKee ran a marathon every single day for a whole year. Nicknamed the ‘Marathon Man’, the Cumbrian fundraiser clocked over 9,500 miles, raised over £1 million for charity, and inspired thousands across the world.

In this exclusive Q&A with Defiance, Gary opens up about his toughest moments, what kept him going, and his mindset behind one of the most extraordinary endurance challenges ever attempted.

What got you into running?

I don’t know, to be quite honest with you. I’ve been a fundraiser for over 20 years, and running is my vehicle for fundraising. I’ve never, ever been in a running club. I’ve never run competitively. I’ve always thought the only competition has been with myself, and trying to get the best out of myself. So, I decided that I would do some running challenges.

What does running bring you mentally?

I suppose running gives me an opportunity to clear my head. It gives me time to think. It gives me the opportunity to switch off and be surrounded by nature.

I think when you’re young, you want to run fast, and when you get older, you want to run further. For me, it’s about going out and having a good time, and that’s what I try to do every time I go for a run.

What within you makes you want to do these types of challenges?

I do them to raise funds predominantly for Macmillan Cancer Support and, more recently, for my local hospice.

So, if I want a lot of people to sponsor me, I’ve got to put my heart into it. People aren’t going to sponsor me if it’s something easy. You know, it just doesn’t work out that way. And I think that the bigger the challenge, the more chance I’ve got of raising a tidy sum of money.

Do you remember the first time you thought about doing the challenge?

As a family, we always sit down and say what we’re going to do this year as fundraisers. I’d just been out running, and I was with my son, and I said to him, I’m thinking of doing 365 marathons in a year. And he said, “What do you mean, thinking about it?”

I said, “Well, it’s obviously a big commitment. Doing a marathon every day and juggling work and family life and everything like that.”

And he said, “You tend not to think about things. You’re more impulsive than that. If you’ve got an idea in your head, you execute it.”

I said, “I know, but it’s a big thing taking a year out of your life, and I won’t be able to go on holiday. How will that affect Mum and your brother and sister?”

And he said, “Well, why don’t we sit down and we’ll discuss it?”

So that night, I said, I’ve got a challenge lined up. And my wife said, “Oh, what’s that?” And I said I’m going to run 365 marathons. And my son, who was not supposed to say anything, had said, “You’re going to do what?”

And my wife started laughing at him. Said, “Why do you sound surprised? Your dad’s already discussed this with you. I can tell by your face.” And he just started laughing.

Do you remember day one of the challenge?

Day one was January 1st, and it was 14 degrees, the hottest January on record. Two days later, it was minus six. There are things that you can’t really prepare for. When you’re running, the elements are one.

What you do know is that you’re going to be in for a hell of a lot of surprises. Every day was a bit of a surprise, but happy ones. There were moments when I was picking up little injuries and having to deal with them, but every day was an opportunity to raise money to help people who were going through hardship, a cancer diagnosis, or being supported by a hospice.

I always thought that whatever I was going through was nothing in comparison to the people for whom I was raising funds to give them the support that they needed.

What do you do as a job that allows you to take a year off to run a marathon every day?

I didn’t take a year off.

How did you find the time to run a marathon every day?

I did the marathon in the morning, and I went to work in the afternoon. Generally, I would run a marathon in the morning, setting off depending on the time of year, but it was usually eight in the morning and finished around midday. Get a shower, a bite to eat, and go to work.

Do you remember your hardest day of the year?

There are a few. I ran on the hottest day of the year, 33 degrees. It was so hot that the rail tracks were melting.

Day 277 stands out because my doctor had prescribed me some naproxen. I took two. I only ever set off on a very light breakfast, a couple of slices of toast with jam and a couple of cups of coffee, and that was me.

I think the naproxen had an effect on me because I was absolutely doubled up with stomach cramps. There was a point I couldn’t walk. I had to stop. The guy who took photos every day got me in his car and took me home. I tried to go to the toilet, but I couldn’t, and then we went straight to the hospital. When my wife saw me, she was crying. So were my children. Anybody running with me thought that was the end of it.

What happened at the hospital?

At the hospital, they did X-rays and scans and hooked me up to monitors. I was on liquid morphine, looking at my watch, thinking I’ve still got 14 miles to do. I asked for a drink and a sandwich. I think I was kidding myself.

They wouldn’t be able to do a procedure now because I’d eaten.

They told me they had a bed for me. I said I don’t need a bed. I’ve got four of them. They said, “No, we’re keeping you in. There’s something in your stomach cavity.” I said, “I’ve been here for hours. I feel a lot better. I need to get on because I’ve got a marathon to finish off.”

She said, “You feel better because you’re on liquid morphine. You’re an absolute lunatic.”

I signed myself out. Called my brother. Told him I was on my way. When I got home, my two boys were here with the bikes. They said, “We’ll come with you, Dad.”

So I finished off that night at 8pm. My hamstring was mental. I was getting treatment three times a week. The physio was doing a remarkable job. I was strapped up and always wore compression pants and shorts; I didn’t want to show anyone I was injured.

Was there a moment during the challenge that stood out to you?

There were days when there were only two of us running. And it was typical Cumbrian monsoon weather.

We were soaked to the skin. I looked at the guy running with me; water dripped off his nose, and I started laughing. He said, “What can you find funny about the day?”

It was just one of those lightbulb moments. The penny’s dropped on what we’re doing.

I said, “If you imagine, we’re standing here absolutely soaked. Somebody’s going to walk out of a cancer ward today and ring the bell to signify their treatment’s over. They’re going to walk out in this rain, feel it on their face, and say: this is the nicest rain I’ve ever felt. We were there to run in somebody else’s rain.

How many trainers did you go through?

That’s usually the first question people ask. I probably went through about 30 different pairs, maybe more.

What I used to do was rotate them. By the time you’d done a couple of weeks, I was back to pair one, and it’s like putting your foot in new shoes.

Can you take me through the final day? Day 365.

If you take a step back before 365, there were two objectives: to run a marathon every day for a year, which I thought was achievable, and to raise a million pounds, which I thought wasn’t.

People were disappointed with the lack of media attention. I explained it as a 365-piece jigsaw; every day we ran, we put a piece in place. I said, “The impossible will be impossible to ignore. Just follow the process.”

On day 365, our JustGiving page was at £550,000. My wife said, “You’ll raise the money, but maybe not today.” I said, “If that’s how it is, that’s how it is.”

I set off around ten past eight. It was New Year’s Eve. We were putting the final piece in place. The last run was a celebration of the previous 364 days.

There were drones, cameras, and media crews. It felt like a last dance. Four miles in, I passed a box that had been put out for me every day. It had a quote, drinks, hot Vimto, chocolate, selection boxes, everything. The town had come out to support us.

I checked JustGiving. After 40 minutes, we’d jumped from £550,000 to £660,000. I thought, “We’re going to hit the million today.”

We kept going. Everyone was laughing. We had special shirts printed for the occasion, and about a thousand people had them. It was a wonderful feeling.

People kept shouting out numbers. I thought they were calling out my pace, “8:20!” It was actually the total: £820,000. We were getting closer.

I stopped everyone, probably over 100 people, and said, “Whatever miles you run in your life, you’ll always remember this last one.”

Where was the finish line?

We finished at the rugby club where I used to play. The roads were chock-a-block. There were thousands of people there. It was brilliant.

The local brewery, Ennerdale, had made a beer called Marathon Man after my earlier challenges. I hadn’t had a beer all year. When I crossed the line with my wife and three kids, someone handed me that bottle. It was my first taste in a year.

What was the comedown like?

Well, we were all just sitting in a room. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Everyone kept refreshing the JustGiving page. At 7:20 pm, we hit £1 million. It felt amazing. Yeah, that was one hell of a year.

How long was it until you went on your next run?

I was quite busy. I had a timetable put together. I was planning on doing 100 miles a week. I went to London. I appeared on one of the breakfast television shows on January 3rd. I’d been back at work on the second.

However, I wasn’t feeling too well. I felt absolutely terrible, and my wife said, “You don’t think you’ve got COVID, do you?”

So I tested. And I had COVID. It absolutely floored me. I’d run over 9000 miles, and I’d never experienced anything like COVID. It came at me like a train. I was floored. I didn’t go out of the house for a few days.

Have you set a goal for your next big challenge?

I do. I’ve got something in my head that I’ve discussed with a few people. When is this going out?

Will you give us a Defiance exclusive? It sounds like you have something in the works.

I’ll tell you what it is. In 2017, my two lads, Alfie, who was 12, and Beau, who was 10, decided they were going to do Run January. They both ran a minimum of three miles every day and raised over £1,500 for Macmillan. They really enjoyed it. They saw they were making a difference in people’s lives.

And Beau said, “I want to carry on.” I said, “What do you mean?” He said, “I love this running, and I love raising money and helping people.” So he carried on and ran for 501 consecutive days. He raised over £35,000. He said to me at the time, “When I’m 18, Dad, I want to run the London Marathon with you.”

He turns 18 in September. So I’ve secured us both places for the marathon. London will be the 100th marathon in 100 days for me. I’ll start in January and finish in London. Beau will do 100 days as well. Obviously, he won’t run a marathon, but he’ll run a minimum of 5K and build up to it. And we’ll run the streets of London together for the first time as dad and lad.

What was the weirdest thing you heard someone shout at you?

In the beginning, I got a lot of people who thought they were clever. They’d just keep shouting numbers at you, usually in a negative way. They’d say, “Oh, you’ve got a long way to go now. You’ve only done 10.” And I’m thinking, yeah, I’ve only done 10 because it’s day 10. Then it would flip. You’d be in September and hear, “Not many left now, lad. Not much left of you either.”

People would always comment on my weight. Those people didn’t believe in what I was doing at the start. If someone reminded them, “He’s on day 290”, they’d say, “He looks terrible.”

There were always negative comments. You’re always going to have people like that. But positive words come from positive people. Good people will always find good people. Everyone who came to run with me wanted to be there. They were the positive people.

How do you want people to reflect on your challenge of running a marathon every day for a year?

People will probably reflect on it differently. Anybody who has run a marathon will know what it’s like. For those who were with us, it was more than just running marathons. It was about the community spirit and the people who came out of the woodwork to support me.

It changed people. It changed their outlook on life. The word “only” was used in a new way. People would say, “I’m only doing 20 miles today because I’m going to work.” When they’d only ever done five before.

Everybody raised the bar. And I think the legacy was: with the right attitude, anything’s achievable.