Running on a Broken Foot — What Day 2012 of My Streak Taught Me About Commitment

Four weeks ago I went out for what felt like a completely normal run. No crack. No snap. No sudden collapse. Just a run that gradually became more painful than any run I can remember. By the time I got home, I could barely walk. I suspected something was wrong, but I kept going. I dropped my daily distance from seven and a half kilometres down to five, I started icing the foot regularly, I used pain relief, and I carried on. Because stopping wasn't something I was prepared to consider.

Today, on Day 2012 of my running streak, it has been confirmed. I have a fracture of the third metatarsal on my right foot.

I am now wearing a protective boot on my right foot and a Vibram FiveFingers V-Trail on my left. One foot in barefoot-style footwear, one foot in what looks like something borrowed from a hospital storeroom. It is not elegant. It is not fast. But I have covered at least five kilometres every single day throughout this injury, and I intend to keep doing so.

Let me say clearly that I am not promoting running on a broken foot as something anyone should do. That is not the point of this reflection at all. I have sought advice from podiatrists, attended the minor injury unit, had the foot X-rayed, and been referred to a fracture clinic. The medical guidance I have received is that, provided the injury is not worsening and I am managing it carefully, continuing at a reduced, low-impact pace is something my body can tolerate through this period. I am listening to that advice. I am not ignoring it. I am also acutely aware that I have a responsibility not to cause myself long-term damage, because this mission is measured in years, not weeks.

What I want to talk about is what the past four weeks have actually revealed to me.

When I started this streak — and we are now at 2012 consecutive days, with 20,120 kilometres covered toward my goal of 40,075km — I knew there would be difficult periods. I knew there would be illness, weather, travel disruption, fatigue, and days where motivation simply was not there. What I perhaps did not fully anticipate was running on a fractured foot for a month without knowing that is what I was doing.

The fracture presented in a way I did not expect. No dramatic moment of impact. No loud crack or sharp sudden pain. It was a slow build. A run that became uncomfortable. Then uncomfortable became sore. Then sore became significant. The nature of a stress-type fracture, or at least how this one presented, was that it crept up on me. And by the time it was bad enough to feel serious, I was already deep into managing it on the move.

I think there is a lesson in that which goes beyond running. The things that are most likely to derail a long-term commitment are rarely the dramatic moments. They are the gradual accumulations. The things that sneak up quietly. The slow erosions of routine that do not announce themselves. What matters is whether you have built enough structure around your commitment that you can still function when something quietly goes wrong.

For me, that structure is the streak itself. Twenty twenty twelve days of consecutive movement have built a framework inside me that does not easily negotiate with disruption. When the foot became painful, my mind did not immediately jump to whether I should stop. It jumped to how I manage this and keep going. That is what consistent daily action does over years. It rewires the default response.

I want to be honest about something though. There have been moments over the past four weeks where I have questioned myself. Not whether to stop, but whether I was being sensible. Whether pushing through was genuine resilience or just stubbornness dressed up as commitment. I do not have a clean answer to that. What I have is the medical guidance that says I have not made it significantly worse, and that the fracture appears to be healing. That has to be enough for now.

The broader mission behind all of this is what keeps the scale of the decision in perspective. I am attempting to run the equivalent of a lap of the earth — 40,075 kilometres in total — barefoot style, every single day, as a continuous streak. I am fundraising for children's causes including Great Ormond Street Hospital and BBC Children in Need, with a target of raising £1 million. At Day 2012, I have covered 20,120 kilometres. I still have 19,955 kilometres to go. That is a long road. A broken foot is a chapter in that road. It is not the end of it.

I hope to be running properly again in the new year. There are around four weeks left of 2025 as I record this, and my aim is to start 2026 back in something that resembles a real running stride, rather than the careful shuffle I have been managing for the past month. The fracture clinic will give me further guidance over the coming weeks, and I will continue to listen to that.

What I know for certain is this. How much you want something determines how you respond to the obstacles inside it. I wanted to keep going. That wanting was not abstract — it was rooted in a mission that involves children's lives, a goal measured in tens of thousands of kilometres, and a streak that took years to build. When those things sit clearly in your mind, the calculation changes. Not recklessly. Not stupidly. But clearly.

A broken foot has not stopped me. Nineteen thousand nine hundred and fifty five kilometres still lie ahead. I will get there one day at a time.

If you believe in what I am doing — a lap of the world barefoot style to raise £1 million for children's causes — please subscribe, share, and follow. Every person who sees this content is a step closer to the goal that matters most.