Kevin Webber has just returned from Global Limits’ 200km, six stage Hemisphere Crossing 2020, which was held in São Tomé and Principe in the Bight of Africa. As a terminal cancer sufferer who in 2014 was given just two years to live, he never imagined he would be here, celebrating his 55th birthday during a run among the deep jungle and beaches of this tropical island country. It’s heartening tale of determination and defeating the odds. As he says, what seems impossible is often possible. See more about his story here.

The Hemisphere Crossing in São Tomé was a supplementary run organised by Global Limits, for runners who have completed at least two in their three-race series. Their runs in 2020 will include Bhutan (late May), Albania (September) and Cambodia in late November. See more about Global Limits.

Kevin has been raising money for Prostate Cancer UK, the biggest cancer affecting men. See Kevin’s website and his JustGiving page.

What was the Hemisphere Crossing São Tomé 2020 like?
São Tomé was an incredible place to visit and to compete in a running event. The island was amazingly beautiful, the running was hot and hard work and unlike anything I’ve done before.

We got right into the heart of the island, occasionally on roads made of stone or tarmac, but mainly on vehicle tracks that linked the villages and plantations. They were dusty to begin with, but they soon turned to mud when it rained. And we ran deep into the jungle too, on very narrow single track, running over rocks, which was painful, and sometimes clambering under fallen trees. There were a few river crossings and near the end we even ran on a carpet of coconut husks, which was incredibly difficult… Still, it’s not often you get the chance to jump into a warm sea at the end of a run, clothes and all…

São Tomé was really humid, already hot and sticky by the time the stages began at 7 am. The humidity and heat made sure our clothes were soaked right from the off. And then there was the tropical rain - at least that made it a bit cooler…. for a while… When the sun came out, it was hot and humid again immediately. There was no way of drying out.

It was interesting camping out on the beaches and up country, where all the old colonial plantation buildings are being reclaimed by the jungle. São Tomé is an incredibly poor country - most people haven’t even heard of it - so it was quite a big thing for them to stage the Hemisphere Crossing. At the start the national anthem was sung by some school kids and then there was a speech from the president. It was the first ever ultramarathon to take place there, and put it on the map in a way.

We were a novelty too. The locals look quizzically at us, running in the heat down the main street of the capital, which is a mixture of old run down Portuguese colonial grandeur and shacks. We passed memorials to those who died in the struggle for independence and democracy in 1975, a reminder that the country has not had it easy.

Credit to Stefan, who organises exceptional runs. The course explored the natural beauty of the island while giving all of us a great run. The local team were awesome, too.

How did it go?
The race went pretty well. I was lucky I didn’t get any blisters – most people did because they constantly had wet feet and shoes from the mud and the rivers, and then no opportunity to get them dry. And the running went well too – I did my usual cat and mouse act, overtaking runners up the hills where I can walk quickly but being overtaken downhill where others run faster than I do.

Amazingly I finished 26th out of 58. Usually I end up about 70% down the field, so to be in the top half was satisfying, not because I am competitive but because it proves I can still get fitter despite being a year older and a year further into my cancer journey... It was really touching when they celebrated my birthday with a cake at the end of Day 5.

Running in the jungle was amazing, though it had its moments. At one point on Day 1 something black fell on the track in front of me. I jumped to the side in time to realise it was a black cobra, a deadly snake, which after the shock of falling then reared up at me. After that I was paranoid about every sound and rustle of a bush.

The 58 runners included two local boys who can run sub 2hr 30 marathons, so very fast. Needless to say, I didn’t see them again after the first 100 yards each day!

What was the most painful moment?
I always feel I have an unfair advantage over other runners in these races – having been through chemotherapy, radiotherapy and living with a very short life prognosis, there isn’t much that can make me not love living. I guess the only thing I hate is when things are unorganised, but any race staged by Stefan has oodles of German efficiency and Sao Tome was no exception.

The most difficult thing was psychological because I am nervous of local food – I don’t want not to finish due to an upset stomach, so when we were eating local food I had to pick carefully what to eat. It clearly worked for me, but others did have issues for a lot of the week, including my tent-mate, Simon, though he finished despite it all.

And your favourite moment?
This race had more unforgettable positive memories than most I have done as it was so different. However, I will never forget the first time we finished a stage on the beach and we just jumped into the waves with all the local kids to watch the sunset over the sea. The contrast of a hard day’s running in the jungle and the relaxed beach life is almost impossible to describe.

The other thing about these races is the strength of the connection you make with people you meet; the fact that you know everyone is suffering out there makes the feeling all the stronger. Obviously I have my issue, but it was incredible to meet Mark, who has leukaemia and is effectively operating on half of one lung, though you would not know it by looking at him. He knows himself and although he completed several stages, he knew he wouldn’t do the Long Day. A brave guy, the epitome of having a go. He used to run loads of these types of races before he got ill and now he wants to just have a go, to be there one more time, for the feeling that these races bring. Amazing man.

It felt more spiritual than other races I have done – it was a combination of being there with the other runners, in a new and exotic country, while also missing my family. It made me think over what's important in life. I love these races and at my demise I won't have to say I wish I had done this thing, or run in that race. I have managed to do so many. I did realise that my kids, particularly Ollie, might say they wish Dad had been around more for them, so when I get home I will be making more time for them - as far as they want me to!

What did you learn?
I don’t do these races to learn anything as such, but I always come away with things I can do better next time. I have definitely cracked my food: breakfast is a dehydrated main meal, usually Shepherd’s Pie or Chicken Teriyaki (yes, people think I am mad); lunch is peanuts and dates on the go; dinner another dehydrated main meal.

My kit choice is also spot on, now, too: I wear Injinji toe socks under a pair of X-Socks. I wear shorts by SAXX that have a unique liner to keep the crown jewels in place, and I always wear a top made by Raidlight. For a backpack I use a Salomon 12-litre race vest, which has loads of pockets for bits and compulsory gear. None of these have let me down, which is key as gear failure on a race can spell disaster!

I think I avoided the blisters and chafing that others got because I always use 2Toms foot powder and 2Toms sports shield. My tent-mate Simon had all sorts of issues, so I gave him some part way through the race and he didn’t have a problem after that.

The contentious item of kit is walking poles, which are shunned by many, but unless you’re an elite runner, poles will add 0.5 mph to your speed in the moments when you have to walk. Also they make going up hills so much easier. I take Black Diamond carbon poles. I am on my 7th pair now as I wear them out, but I swear by them.

My best tip, though, is attitude. When it’s tough – and it always will be at some stage – you have a choice. You can either think “Why am I doing this?” or you can say to yourself “I am so privileged to be in this place, with the chance to prove that I have the toughness required to get through, no matter what”. I also like to show other people living with cancer, or any kind of challenge, that they should never give up, because what seems impossible turns out to be possible most of the time.