“It helps if you switch the power on,” shouted Mike, the security guard, as he chuckled into his beard. And our hearts started beating again.



Earlier that morning, I had been winched on to Sealand to take part in possibly the weirdest, most unlikely run of my life as part of my “around the world in 80 runs” challenge.

Sealand is a small, self-declared nation 12km off the coast of Essex, located on an abandoned second world war fortress. About the size of a tennis court, it was built in international waters, meaning that, once vacated, it more or less belonged to no one. Roy Bates (or “Prince Roy”) spotted this loophole in the 60s and, despite British protests, set up his principality, complete with flag, currency and motto. It has had a few adventures over the years: in the 70s, it was taken over by Germans. Shortly after, the original Sealanders recaptured it with a helicopter and shotguns and imprisoned one of the Germans for seven months; in the 90s, it became a data hub; in the 2000s, it nearly disappeared in a ball of fire. However, through grit and hard work, it has survived as a nation.

This slightly tamer adventure started with a simple email to the Sealand government, to which I didn’t really expect a reply. When it came, they were surprisingly keen. I might actually be able to visit this place that had captured my teenage imagination so long ago.

Trailer for No Half Measures - the film about Simon’s exploits

However, with their go-ahead, the real challenge started: how the hell do I get there and, more to the point, how do I run a half marathon, bearing in mind the fatal consequences if I missed a corner? A treadmill was the only real option.

From thereon, the project grew beyond my expectations: from a small, slightly random idea at the back of my mind, it escalated into a full-blown official half marathon, with film crew and sponsors in tow.

In early July, a small team and I were all set. The treadmill – kindly provided by Nordic Track – had safely made it there the previous day; there was hardly a cloud in the sky; an official Sealand government speedboat was waiting for us; Nathan Sports had kindly kitted us out – nothing could stop us now! Well, not quite. At the 11th hour, we got the bad news: the winds were high out at sea, it would be too dangerous and we’d have to reschedule.



The Sealand half marathon. No starting pens required.

Two weeks later, the forecast was worse, with severe weather warnings sweeping across the south-east of England. Despite this, Princes James, Roy’s grandson, assured us that we’d be OK so long as we left Sealand by midday – or we would be stuck out there for a week. So, at 4am, we set off from London. Time was precious. We had an eight-hour window to get to Sealand, run and get back.

By 7am, having signed all the relevant disclaimers, donned our life-jackets and hard hats, we were on the boat and ready. Slowly but surely, the speck in the distance became clearer and clearer until the unmistakable silhouette of Sealand came into focus.

Getting up on it is a little tricky, and one of the reasons why we were the first tourists in two years. The only way is via the worryingly named Plummet Winch: basically, a swing attached to an engine that dangles you 100ft up. Once swinging, I switched off and enjoyed the view and the randomness – but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly nervous. It’s safe to say that this will be the weirdest mode of transport I’ll ever use to get to a race.

Just your average race transport. Photograph: Simon Messenger

After a visit to passport control for visas, and then assembling the treadmill, we were all set: the machine was ready, I had my running kit on, the camera crew was in place, we switched on the treadmill and … nothing. Nada. We tried again. Still no response. The heart palpitations began: had we come this far for nothing? And then, Mike the security guard pointed out that the fortress’s power was off. Panic over.

The race itself wasn’t the most exciting part – let’s be honest, running on a treadmill isn’t very stimulating. However, the setting was incredible. A relic of the second world war, a private fiefdom or a rusty old fort in the middle of the sea: it mattered not – we were very honoured to be here.

As the morning progressed, the rain held off. The cameramen were having a field day and I cracked on, happily maintaining a 4min/km pace. I was actually a little too fast for them and, as I reached the 21.1km mark in 1h27, I heard them shout back to me: “Just keep going, we’re not quite ready.” Er … sure, thanks guys!

After another kilometre or so, I got the thumbs up and sprinted up to the helipad to cross the official “finish line” and be met by Prince James. And there I was, the first person to complete a half marathon on Sealand.

Why do this? Well, why not? It’s a bit of fun, a bit of an adventure and a chance to visit somewhere on our doorstep hardly anyone’s heard of, let alone been to: a place full of history, of idealism, of romance and of pure barking madness.

You can follow Simon’s “around the world in 80 runs” challenge on www.80runs.co.uk or Twitter @80_runs