Jay Reeve

Fuck.

And just when we thought it couldn't get any worse, we met Doug, a 62-year-old local legend celebrating his birthday.

He wandered over and asked what we were up to.

Well, naturally, we puffed our chests and told him about the mighty coast to coast to coast.

Doug paused, looks us up and down and said, well, that's about fucking nine kilometers.

Nine fucking kilometers.

Then just to finish us off, he added, we used to do that as a fundraiser for the kids.

They would eventually start in their prams and then they'd run it themselves by about the age of five.

That was fucking it.

Game over.

In that moment, the entire event was downgraded from epic endurance challenge to leisurely community stroll pram optional.

And of course we can't ignore the absolute carnage of injuries sustained along the way.

Clayton shattered, absolutely shattered, broke a nail, career threatening stuff.

Thor pushed beyond human limits, spent more than 10 minutes in the water and is still recovering from what can only be described as minor osmosis.

Jase, the real casualty, currently battling ongoing symptoms from severe overexposure to painkillers.

Doctors remain baffled, mostly because no one can confirm what the man actually has consumed in his lifetime.

By the end of the trip, the name had officially changed.

The coast-to-coast-to-coast, a mild inconvenience, brought to you by Jason's fear of effort.

A true test of endurance.

If your biggest battle is having to stay awake.