The soles of Hannah Cox's trainers tell their own story. Patched up with pieces of a car tyre and orange with dust, they have covered far more ground than a solitary marathon. While some finishers of Sunday's London Marathon may wake up barely able to descend stairs, vowing 'never again,' consider this: what if you had another 26.2 miles to run? And then another, and another, for 100 consecutive days across India? And what if, until 18 months ago, you had never run at all?
This is the epic and emotional adventure stamped into those trainers.
For several years, Cox had an ambitious route in mind — she just hadn't decided how to travel it. After her father's death in 2011, the 41-year-old became fascinated by her Indian heritage, particularly a 4,200km route used by the British in the 19th century to implement a controversial salt tax. The route included the Great Hedge of India, a customs barrier. When she met a friend in the summer of 2024 who asked if she was "still obsessed with that hedge," she decided it was time to make the journey. She hadn't expected him to say, "I think you should run it."
That seed grew. She joined a local running club in Manchester, starting with 30 minutes three times a week. As her fitness progressed, 5Ks turned into 10Ks, and she worked on back-to-back running days. Challenges like "20 20 20" — 20km every weekday for 20 days — and seven marathons in seven days from coast to coast of the UK convinced her that 'Project Salt Run' had legs. She quit her job, assembled a support team, acquired a van, and aimed to raise £1 million for environmental charities.
While prepared physically and practically, nothing could ready her for the madness of Indian roads or the sickness she would battle. "Everyone tried to put me off at first — people just didn't believe I would actually do it," Cox says. On 26 October last year, she set off from the Attari-Wagah border between Pakistan and India, bound for Kolkata, a few miles from where her father Deric was born.
She stayed true to the route, which meant sometimes running 42km along highways ("boring as hell"), but other days through nature reserves, canals, and farmers' fields. There were cows, snakes, and goats in the road; drivers regularly traveled on the wrong side. She has a scar on her right leg from a collision with a motorbike. She needed a police escort at times through regions known for fatal tiger attacks. It was often hot, dusty, and smoggy. Despite two weeks of heat chamber sessions beforehand, it was unlike anything she had experienced.
Sickness played a large part in her losing more than 10kg during the challenge. One episode coincided with a surreal encounter. "It was day 24 and we met Richard Branson at the Taj Mahal," she says. "He was hosting a charity cycling event. The evening before, he invited me for dinner. I had one sniff of an Old Fashioned and thought, 'Oh my God, I'm going to be sick.' I ran to the fancy toilets and was sick everywhere. The next day, I needed to run a marathon, and five of Branson's charity event participants decided to run with me. I was sick all day by the side of the road but I just knew I had to finish."
Cox would get up early to beat the heat, hydrating with liters of electrolyte fluids. She had a simple refueling method: eat, run 15km, eat, run 15km, eat, run 12km, eat, sleep, repeat. Breakfast was porridge with bananas and peanut butter; lunch was "usually a massive plate of rice with marmite with two eggs, or cheesy fried potatoes with eggs and veg." Between checkpoints she snacked on cashews and almonds, and after the day's marathon she had curry, rice, eggs, roti, plus crisps and chocolate for extra calories. Passing strangers occasionally gave food, but usually they sourced seasonal items and prepared them roadside.
The van followed her during the day; at night they parked by the road or at petrol stations. Every 10 days they treated themselves to a cheap hotel for a hot shower and "much needed space." Otherwise, the van was home, and sweaty kit was washed under a cold tap at a petrol station forecourt. "The shower in the van was cold, so I'd have a cold shower at the end of every day, wash my hair maybe once or twice a week," Cox says.
Despite brushing shoulders with Branson, Cox's journey wasn't about glamour. "I mean, it [Branson] is the story, right? It's the one people cling to — you met a famous person — but it was a tiny part of what it was," she says. "The project wouldn't have worked without everybody that supported it, and the grassroots nature and community aspect of it."
Psychologists agree this is key for any challenge. "There are three basic psychological needs when we talk about motivation," says Amy Whitehead, sports scientist. "If you've got high autonomy, high social support, and some level of competence and confidence, then you can succeed."
Compared to other ultra running challenges — like British ultra runner Will Goodge planning 50 marathons in 50 US states in 20 days with private jet travel — Cox's crew of four was pared back: a support runner, a driver, a helper, and her secret weapon, a podiatrist. Despite running 100 marathons, she has no tales of lost toenails or infected blisters. "I'd happily walk around with you in sandals right now," she tells BBC Sport at her running club, where she just received a hero's welcome.
Her finances, however, are not in as good shape. She is still recouping personal loans taken out to fund the challenge, some renegotiated roadside in India when money ran out. She is still raising money, determined to reach her original £1 million target for four environmental and social impact charities.