One Man & his Med Ball

Day 12: Kettering and rest!

Day 12 – Rothwell to Kettering: The Quiet Miles

Today’s leg was a little different – not just in distance, but in feeling. Leaving Rothwell, where yesterday ended with beers in hand and smiles all around, I set off with tired legs but a full heart. The conversations from the day before still sat fresh in my mind – especially the reminder of how far I’ve come, not just in miles, but in mindset.

The first stop was Kettering – a short pause, just about an hour, but a meaningful one. There I met Dave, a Tesco colleague with 40 years of service. We spoke about how things used to be, especially around mental health – a subject that wasn’t even whispered in the workplace back then. It was one of those conversations that really lands – a reminder of how far we’ve come, but also how far we still have to go.

Dave introduced me to two more colleagues, each with over 20 years in the business. Both took the time to congratulate me and talk about the journey so far. What struck me most wasn’t the words – it was the atmosphere. No music, no cheers, just quiet conversations and nods of respect. And honestly? That moment of calm, that shift in pace, gave me time to really feel the impact of this challenge. It grounded me.

Then came the second stretch – the 17-mile push to today’s rest location. And if the distance wasn’t enough, the weather decided to throw a curveball too. Gone was the blazing sun – in its place came strong winds and patchy rain. At times it felt like a welcome cool down, other times it just added to the slog. Medi, as ever, was no lighter. Shoulders ached. Feet burned. But I kept moving.

Now, here’s the twist: today’s rest stop ended up being a few miles further than originally planned – which means tomorrow’s already-tough route just got tougher. I’ll be starting with extra miles to get back on track as I push towards Bedford. But there’s a silver lining – from Bedford, I’ve got company joining me for the final 12 miles to Flitwick. More on that tomorrow.

22 miles done today. Day 12 complete.

Bring it on.

Day 11 Oakham to Corby to rest location

Day 11 – Oakham to Corby Extra, then on to Rothwell

Distance: 29 miles

Weather: Bright skies, dry heat, and not a single breeze when you needed one

Today started harder than most. Because of where we stayed last night, the route had to be adjusted — which meant I wasn’t just heading out for a direct stretch to Corby Extra. Instead, I had to add an extra 9 miles right at the start, taking the first part of the day to roughly 20 miles. That alone started playing mind games with me before I’d even properly got going.

The shift in scenery is becoming more noticeable too. I’ve moved on from winding paths through crop fields and battling steep country climbs. Now, I’m spending longer stretches walking along busy roads. I’m no longer fighting through undergrowth — I’m fighting the heat radiating off the tarmac. At times, it honestly felt like I was sticking to the road, the soles of my feet absorbing the heat with every step. Different battlefield — same challenge.

The miles today were a slow grind. With Medi in tow and the sun blazing, the physical struggle was matched only by the mental one. You’ve got hours on your own to wrestle with your thoughts — and today, they weren’t being kind. But I kept moving. One foot, then the next.

Arriving at Corby Extra, I was absolutely done in. My body was sore, my legs were heavy, and each step came with a wince. I spotted colleagues waiting at the entrance and tried to pull myself together — walking tall, smiling, pretending I had more left in the tank than I actually did. The clapping and cheering lifted me, and I was as grateful as ever — but deep down, all I wanted to do was collapse.

Then the confetti cannons fired — and I jumped out of my skin. It made me laugh though, and reminded me of just how much effort had gone into the welcome. Photos were taken, hands were shaken, and I took a moment to thank the many colleagues who had come out to support me. I spoke with as many as I could — their presence meant the world.

Eventually, I was guided into the colleague room where the real prize was waiting: a proper cuppa tea. The team at Corby Extra had gone above and beyond to make me feel welcome, and after a day like today, that kind of care hits differently. It wasn’t just the tea or the food — it was the thought, the effort, and the kindness behind it all. I was truly grateful.

As I sat there talking with colleagues, it suddenly dawned on me — I’d just walked 20 miles to get here… and I still had another 9 to go. That realisation hit hard. I had to somehow dig deep, find something left in the tank, and get back on my feet to finish the day.

However, that strength walked in the door of the colleague room. I wasn’t going to be alone for those last 9 miles. Sam Hart — a Tesco colleague and personal friend of mine, and an ex-RAF aircraft engineer — walked in, and just like that, the weight I was carrying felt a little lighter. My worry almost disappeared. It’s one thing facing those miles alone, but facing them with someone beside you makes you feel stronger… and less lonely. That’s a powerful part of the message we’re spreading with Combat Stress. We don’t have to carry it all alone.

Leaving Corby, we set off strong. Sam turned to me and said, “Come on then — from the top. I want to know about your journey from the beginning.”

So I talked. About the highs, the lows, the aches, the laughs. And as I spoke, something clicked. I realised for the first time just how far I’ve come — how much I’ve done, and how much I’ve shared. I hadn’t taken a second to recognise that in myself until that conversation. Whether Sam meant for me to see it or not, I’m grateful he asked. And grateful he listened.

About a mile from the finish, another familiar face pulled up — Andy Williams. Honestly, I owe a lot to both Andy and Sam. They gave me a chance at Tesco when I didn’t believe in myself. Andy’s energy is like a shot of adrenaline. He’d gone out of his way just to see me, congratulate me, and tell me he’d be there at the finish line. That kind of support fills you up. It reminded me that the challenge, the message, the purpose — it’s hitting home. It’s being heard all across Tesco.

Our final destination was a quiet pub in the small village of Rothwell — and there, waiting like she always is, was Chloe. But this time, with a welcome gift: two ice-cold beers. After 29 blistering miles, that sight was pure gold. That moment, shared with her and Sam, made the whole day’s pain soften just a little.

Today’s Battle Wounds

That first 20 miles early in the day already had my feet on the edge — and the final stretch pushed them over. Blisters are there. Pressure spots are screaming. Heat rash is making another aggressive comeback, and I’ve got fresh sunburn where the rucksack rubs. My right elbow is feeling the strain of Medi, my knees are stiff, and my lower back feels like it’s aged 10 years in one day. But that’s the deal I made with this journey. Pain is part of the price.

Eleven days down. Twenty-nine miles behind me. Still walking. Still carrying. Still believing.

I’m still standing.

Bring it on.

Please keep sharing the blog link. Let others follow along, feel the miles, and see the meaning behind every step. We walk for those who can’t — and we walk so none of us have to suffer in silence.

Day 10 Melton Mowbray to Oakham!

Day 10 – Melton Mowbray to Oakham: Small Steps, Big Conversations

Ten days in. Ten days of dragging Medi (who, by the way, is not getting any lighter), pushing through heat, blisters, hills, and the weight of everything this challenge represents. Today’s route took me from Melton Mowbray to Oakham – and while it wasn’t the longest stretch, it was one that made me reflect deeply.

Walking today’s leg took me through cropped fields, busy lanes, and quiet villages – a full array of scenery to take in and appreciate. From the buzz of traffic to the stillness of farmland, the landscape kept shifting around me, giving my mind room to wander and reflect on just how far I’ve come – and how far I still have to go.

Arriving at Oakham, a wave of emotion hit me. I’ve carried the weight of this challenge every mile, but today, the emotional weight really set in. I found myself worrying: What if I can’t finish? What if I let people down? Standing at the edge of the town, I thought about who was waiting – friends, family, colleagues, my own team, a local radio station, even veterans. All there, all believing in what I’m doing. It dawned on me just how many people are walking this journey with me in spirit.

As I walked slowly around the corner – partly because of nervousness, partly because my feet were burning – my first sight was the standard bearer. It filled my heart. A little further on, I saw my team. My family. I struggled a little more to reach that makeshift finish line, but the claps, the cheers, the love – they carried me those final steps. That arrival moment… it was sweet. A pause in the pain. A reminder of why I’m doing this.

The local radio station asked if I could say a few words – and honestly, that’s really not my thing. But I managed to find a few thank yous, and some words of appreciation for everyone who showed up… in between a lot of heavy breathing.

After all the pictures were taken, hands were shaken, and – of course – my cuppa tea was in hand, Ellen and her team guided me to the room where the food, balloons, and gift bags had been set out. I’ve said it many times throughout this journey, but I’ll say it again – I never expect anything like this. Yet every time, it catches me off guard in the best way. It makes me feel like what we’re doing really is making a difference – that people are listening, sharing, and embracing the message.

Store manager Ellen went above and beyond to make us feel welcome and created yet another unforgettable moment for me. I’m truly grateful. And a special thank you to Emma, whose hard work and effort behind the scenes helped make today feel so special – it didn’t go unnoticed, and it meant a lot.

Battle wounds 

Surprisingly not much change heat is belt feeding me but no new issues.

Tomorrow’s journey takes me to Corby Oakley – another step, another story waiting to unfold.

Ten days down. Ten powerful reminders that I’m not walking alone.

Please keep sharing the link to this blog – let others walk this journey through my words, feel what I’m feeling, and hear the voices I’ve been so lucky to meet.

This is more than a walk.

This is for every person battling in silence.

This is for those who feel unseen.

This is for all of us.

Bring it on.

Day 9 dinnington to Worksop to melton Mowbray

Day 9 – 57 Miles of Hell and Hope

Route: Dinnington → Worksop → Melton Mowbray

Distance: 57 miles

Store number: 14 of the challenge

Today was, without a doubt, the toughest day so far.

What started as a tiring but steady morning quickly turned into a full-on test — physically, mentally, and emotionally. The journey from Dinnington to Worksop wasn’t just about covering miles; it was about navigating unforgiving terrain that seemed determined to break me.

The route dragged us straight through open fields — not around them, right through the middle of tall crops and uneven ground. No paths, no signs, just planting rows and the odd ditch waiting to trip us up. Dragging Medi through that, in the heat, with aching feet… it took its toll.

Thankfully, I wasn’t alone.

My boss, Dale Young, joined me for the 6-mile stretch into Worksop — and honestly, it meant more than I can say. Even when he found one of those ditches the hard way (yes, he hit the deck once!), it just added to the moment — we laughed, we kept spirits high, and we kept walking. It was one of the highlights of the day. But beyond the banter, it gave me the chance to talk about something I truly care about: work.

It wasn’t a structured conversation, but I opened up about my journey — where my vision started, how it’s shifted, and where I see it going. Dale just listened. Really listened. And that right there — that simple act — is exactly what this walk is all about. That’s what Combat Stress stands for: being heard, being supported, and being understood.

Arriving at Tesco Worksop was something I’ll never forget. I was welcomed like a hero — a guard of honour of colleagues, lining the entrance, cheering and clapping as I walked in. Not one of them knew me, but every single one of them made me feel like family. That kind of support hits hard after a tough leg. A huge thank you to Tom, the store manager, for making it all happen and giving me and Dale such a warm and genuine welcome.

After the cheers and photos, we headed to the colleague room for a much-needed sit down. And before I could even fully catch my breath, I was handed a bucket — asked to pull the winning ticket from the Tombola they’d organised to raise even more for the cause. It was such a thoughtful and uplifting surprise. That small moment, full of smiles and laughter, was exactly the kind of energy I needed to keep going.

I stayed there for a short while, sat with Dale, Tom, and Chloe, just soaking it all in. No rush, no pressure — just good conversation, kind people, and a moment of calm before the storm resumed.

Then came the second leg.

It began with a long, gruelling, hot cycle, stretching around 50 miles through a stunning national park and peaceful cycle routes. The scenery was incredible — rolling hills, shaded tracks, and quiet countryside — but the heat was punishing. Every incline demanded more than I thought I had left. The beauty around me helped… but it didn’t make it easier.

Eventually, I switched back to walking — and after what felt like a lifetime on the road, I arrived at Melton Mowbray, store number 14 of this incredible journey.

And that’s when the emotion hit.

Every store has welcomed me with open arms — but something about today, about this leg, about the exhaustion and what was waiting for me… it broke through. My heart is opening more with every step of this challenge, and my emotions are starting to show the moment I reach each destination.

At Melton, the team had gone all out. A welcoming parade of colleagues, cake, ice cream, music, handshakes, pictures — I mean, honestly, I say this every time, but it never becomes less overwhelming. These are people who had never met me, yet they made me feel like someone who mattered.

But it wasn’t just the arrival. It was the way they looked after me and Chloe with such genuine care and kindness. They saw how hard the day had been and responded with nothing but warmth and support.

After the celebrations, I spent some time in their training room, chatting with a couple of colleagues — including Matt, who later returned to man the Combat Stress table they had set up at the front of the store. It was such a proud moment seeing the cause front and centre like that.

While he was doing that, I had the absolute pleasure of sitting down with Tanya, one of the store’s shift managers. She’s been with Tesco for many years, and our conversation went deep. We spoke about mental wellness in the workplace — what’s working, what’s not, what colleagues really need, and how managers can reflect on their own journeys to help others grow. We discussed how every single person, no matter their role, reacts and processes life differently — and how important it is that Tesco remains a place that is truly inclusive and adaptive.

That conversation stayed with me. It was open, honest, and built on a shared belief that people matter — and that leadership is about understanding those differences, not managing them away.

And that’s when something really struck me about this store.

There’s something truly special about Melton Mowbray. The morale is incredible. You can feel that they don’t just work together — they care about each other. Genuinely. I’ve felt supported at every stop, but here… I really felt it in the atmosphere, in the conversations, and in the way the team functioned.

And that doesn’t happen by accident.

That culture starts from the top — and the top here is store manager Rehana. Talking to Rehana, I could see exactly where her team got their togetherness from. I listened to every word she had to say — and honestly, I almost hung on it. It was infectious. She really does care. What I witnessed today was a team that clearly feels seen, heard, and valued. That’s rare. And it’s special.

I could say thank you over and over — and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Day 9. 57 miles.

Fields, falls, Tombola tickets, cycle climbs, training room reflections, and a store that felt like home.

Still walking. Still carrying. Still standing — for people, purpose, and the power of being heard.

Bring it on!

👉 Please keep sharing the link to this blog. Let others experience this journey with me — the highs, the lows, the people, the purpose — through the words I’m writing as I walk. Every share helps raise awareness and opens up the conversation about mental health just a little bit more.

Day 8: Pontefract to Dinnington

Day 8 – Pontefract to Dinnington

Distance: 29.8 miles

Today was a long one – 29.8 miles from Pontefract to Dinnington, and while the distance alone was enough of a challenge, it was the heat that really took its toll. Not the kind of heat that just makes you sweat, but the kind that presses down on you, makes every mile feel heavier, and chips away at your focus. My mind struggled today – not from loneliness, but from that unrelenting sun, turning each step into a mental battle.

This was probably the first day I genuinely felt like I couldn’t complete the leg. With 7 or 8 miles left, the pain in my legs and the exhaustion finally caught up with me. I honestly just wanted to stop, call Chloe, and say I was done. That moment hit hard – everything in me was screaming to throw in the towel. What made it even tougher were the pathways themselves. Some of them cut straight through the middle of fields – not just gravel or dirt tracks, but paths through tall wheat or whatever crops were planted. Dragging Medi through that kind of terrain took a serious toll, both physically and mentally. Even after topping up my 3L water supply halfway through the day, I still ran out with four miles to go – the heat, the stress, the strain of running dry just added to the pressure. Every step felt heavier, the resistance constant. But something deeper wouldn’t let me quit. Maybe it was the reason behind the walk. Maybe it was everyone who’s believed in me so far. Maybe it was just sheer stubbornness. Whatever it was, it carried me through.

Along the way, I still found little pockets of meaning. I had some genuinely eye-opening conversations with farmers and locals about how solar farms are taking over large areas of land. These were real, thoughtful chats – people sharing their perspectives, their worries, and their passion for the places they call home. These unexpected moments keep teaching me just how connected we all are.

But the real turning point came when I arrived in Dinnington. I was completely done in – physically broken, mentally drained – and then I saw them. A crowd waiting to welcome me. Veterans came to shake my hand and thank me. One stood proudly with the standard raised as I crossed a finish line made just for me. Councillors were there to capture the moment, colleagues cheered me in, and that overwhelming wave of support hit me like nothing else. After such a hard day, it meant the world. I didn’t expect to get emotional – but I did. Because that kind of welcome reminds you exactly why you’re still walking.

Today’s Battle Wounds:

My left foot is still raw and blistered – open skin and a constant sting. Medi continues to grind into my right elbow, making each mile harder than the last. The heat made it worse, and the mental toll nearly stopped me today. But it didn’t. That’s what matters.

A big thank you to everyone who made my arrival at Dinnington so special – from the veterans, to the colleagues, to the kind passersby who cheered me on. A huge shoutout to Dale Young (my manager) for turning up to support me and for organising so much behind the scenes. And to Steph, the store manager, and Tracy – thank you both for everything you prepared today and for making both me and Chloe feel so welcome. It meant more than you know.

Eight days down. One of the hardest so far. I wanted to quit – but I didn’t.

Let’s keep walking.

Bring it on.

Day 7: Leeds seacorft to Garforth to Pontefract

Day 7 – Leeds Seacroft to Garforth, then onto Pontefract

Distance: 24.8 miles

Today’s journey took me from Leeds Seacroft through Garforth and into Pontefract – covering 24.8 miles in total.

Leaving Seacroft, the scenery began to change again – no longer the countryside I’d become used to, but instead long stretches of busy roads and traffic as I pushed closer toward Pontefract. There were moments of small green spaces along the way, but for the most part, the day was dominated by the hum of the roadside and the flow of urban life. A different kind of challenge – mentally tiring, noisy, and relentless in its own way. Today I really felt Medi in my right elbow. Whether it was the heat, the constant tension, or just a sudden realisation of the weight I’ve been carrying, it made itself known. It’s strange how pain moves and shifts, reminding you of every mile you’ve come.

Arriving at Garforth completely lifted my spirits. I was greeted by an array of colleagues cheering and clapping – their energy was infectious, and my mood soared. I spent a long time in the colleague room just sitting, talking, and getting to know them. We shared stories – some light-hearted, some deeply personal. And it hit me: this is the 11th Tesco store I’ve visited, and in so many of them, I’ve had open, honest conversations about mental health, support networks, and what could be improved. What I’ve come to realise is that I’m gathering real, boots-on-the-ground insight. Colleagues are sharing real concerns, genuine needs – the kind that don’t always make it up the chain from the shop floor. I believe I’ve got a duty to relay these stories and ideas to the right people within Tesco. Alongside spreading the message for Combat Stress, this walk has opened up a whole new purpose – helping a company I love improve life for the people who make it work every day.

As I left Garforth, I was joined by Mat Asquith, Vera Anderson, Kirsty Hopps, and Kathy Furnace for a good couple of miles. The time flew by – conversation flowed so naturally, and I started learning about their careers, how long they’ve worked for Tesco, and what keeps them going. One thing really stood out: Tesco holds onto its people. Many of them have been with the company for years, and that says something powerful about loyalty and culture. As they waved me off a few miles down the road and I continued toward Pontefract, I felt energised. They made me feel like I really can make a difference – not just with this walk, but with what comes after.

Today’s Battle Wounds:

My left foot is still in bits – the skin’s gone from multiple blisters, and now I’m working with raw, exposed patches that sting with every step. Compeeds, gauze, tape – I’ve become my own medic at this point. On top of that, Medi made his presence known in my right elbow today, a deep, dull ache that didn’t let up. Whether it was the heat or just the weight catching up with me, it’s a new pain to manage on top of the rest. But we adapt. We always adapt.

And through it all, those messages of support just keep coming in – from friends, colleagues, strangers, and people I’ve never even met. They’re landing at just the right moments and helping more than I can say. Keep them coming – they’re giving me strength on the toughest stretches.

Seven days down. One week of pain, laughter, support, discovery, and purpose.

Let’s keep walking.

Bring it on!

Day 6 Catterick Garrison to Leeds roundhay to Leeds Seacroft

Day Six: Catterick Garrison to Leeds (Roundhay & Seacroft)

Spreading the Word, Sharing the Weight

Day Six. The days are stacking up now, and so are the miles, today brought a mix of heat, laughter, conversations, and some truly humbling moments. I set off from Catterick Garrison, cycling through sunshine and open roads with Medi tucked in my bag, heading first to Roundhay and then into Leeds Seacroft.

The route today covered around 50 miles on the bike and 10.5 miles on foot. The weather? Absolutely stunning warm sunshine, clear skies, and the kind of day that makes you forget (momentarily) the pain in your feet and the fatigue in your bones.

As I travelled further from the rural surroundings of Catterick, the scenery began to shift, the rolling countryside gave way to clusters of housing, the roads became busier, and small country parks dotted the route into Leeds. It was a reminder of how varied this journey really is, not just in distance but in the changing landscapes, from wild open stretches to local neighbourhoods full of life. That contrast gave the day a different energy, one that carried me all the way to Seacroft.

But this journey was never just about miles. It’s about people, and today, they showed up in the best way. Along the route, I met passers-by curious about the walk, asking questions, snapping pictures, and even feeling the weight of the medicine ball for themselves. Seeing people engage, ask about Combat Stress, and connect with the purpose behind the pain made every step feel worthwhile. This challenge is starting conversations. It’s doing exactly what we hoped it would.

Physically, I’m hanging in there just. My left foot is still in a bad way, each step a reminder of the grind. But overall, muscles are holding up well, and mentally I’m drawing strength from the incredible support. That final push into Tesco Seacroft lit a fire in me confetti cannons, handshakes, cheers, I wasn’t expecting that, and it absolutely lifted my spirits when I needed it most.

One of the best parts of the day came after the walking was done. I had the chance to sit and chat with the Tesco Seacroft team, and I was genuinely curious to hear their stories — how long they’d been with Tesco, their goals, their ambitions. We laughed, swapped stories, and I walked away with a deep appreciation for the people behind the badges. I can’t remember all the names of the colleagues I spoke to, but a massive thanks to James the store manager, Jade, and golden boy Adrian for taking such great care of me and Chloe. To all those colleagues that sat and chatted and welcomed me in thank you. You made a long, hard day feel like a homecoming. To your welcome! hospitality! kindness! and support! we are forever grateful! 

Today’s battle wounds:

• Left foot still very sore and demanding attention
• Muscles in good shape surprisingly — holding steady for now
• Emotionally, today was a test  but the people and the purpose pulled me through

As always, Chloe was my constant behind-the-scenes hero. Despite working her own job in Leeds today, she still managed to check in, support me, keep things running smoothly, and make sure I was good all the way through the day. Coordinating, encouraging, planning, she’s more than just my checkpoint crew, she’s my reason to keep going.

Six days in. Six days of sweat, setbacks, and special moments. The legs hurt, the feet scream, but the heart is full.

Bring on Day Seven.

DAY 5 New Aycliffe to Catterick Garrison

Day 5 – Newton Aycliffe to Catterick Garrison

Distance: 22 miles

Weather: Moody skies, relentless roads, no surrender

Today wasn’t the longest day so far—but it felt like one of the hardest. The lack of pictures from today made me realise how hard it has been.

22 miles from Newton Aycliffe to Catterick Garrison, and every step tested me. The blisters have gone from bad to savage. Heat rash has flared up again, and my feet are now more tape and Compeed than skin.

Unlike yesterday, there were no laughs or shared stories to help the miles pass. Just me, the medicine ball, and a long road that seemed to stretch forever. Solitude makes the mind wander and not always to friendly places but I kept moving. At one point, the thought of just launching Medi into a bush and curling up on the side of the road definitely crossed my mind. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because this isn’t just a walk it’s a mission.

Reaching Catterick Tesco was a real achievement. The welcome there completely lifted my spirits. Two colleagues came out to meet me for the final stretch a sight for sore eyes right when I was struggling both physically and emotionally. As I reached the entrance, I was met by a group of colleagues all cheering, with “I Would Walk 500 Miles” blasting in the background. It was overwhelming in the best way handshakes, offers of a chair, something to eat, and of course, a proper cuppa (which I’ll never say no to).

A massive thank you to Rachel, the Tesco Extra Store Manager, for everything she organised today. Her effort and support made such a difference not just to me physically, but mentally too. That welcome was unforgettable.

The pain is real. The silence today was tough. But I’m still here. Still standing. Still walking.

Today’s Battle Wounds

The pain today is extremely real. When I finally had the chance to tend to my feet, I realised the skin from several blisters had completely disappeared just raw, exposed flesh left behind. It’s agony putting socks on, let alone walking another 200 miles. But this is the reality of pushing through. I’ll patch up, rest up, and get ready to do it all again tomorrow.

To all my colleagues from Tesco who joined me, welcomed me, and cheered for me throughout this challenge, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You may not know me, but I will never forget any of you. Your kindness, encouragement, and presence adds fuel to a fire that has been close to going out. You are part of the reason I’m able to carry on. Your support means everything!

Another day. Another 22 miles in the tank.

Five days down. A third of the way through now.

Bring it on.

Day 4 Consett to Newton Aycliffe via Bishop Auckland

Day Four: Consett Tesco Extra to Bishop Auckland, then Newton Aycliffe

The Grind Sets In – But So Does the Purpose

Day Four began with sore feet, stiff legs, and a backside still recovering from yesterday’s saddle time. The excitement and adrenaline of the early days have started to settle into something else now — a steady, stubborn determination. This is no longer just a challenge… it’s becoming a way of life.

It was absolutely pouring with rain as I set off this morning, but I wasn’t alone. I was joined by Matt from the Consett Tesco store, an ex-Marine who wanted to share part of the road — and his experiences — with me. I was just as keen to share this journey with him. We ended up heading a couple of miles in the wrong direction at first, soaked through and laughing about it, but honestly, I was grateful for the company. And that detour turned out to be a bit of a gift — it took us past Terris Novalis, a striking sculpture I hadn’t visited before. It was surreal and fitting to walk by something so bold and unexpected at this point in the challenge. Sometimes, the wrong way brings the right moments.

Leaving Consett Tesco Extra, where yesterday’s reception still echoed in my mind, I headed toward Bishop Auckland, dragging Medi behind me once again — not just a weight, but a constant reminder of the mission. The miles felt longer today, not just in distance, but in how they wore on the body. Every step was deliberate, every swing of Medi felt a little heavier, and the voice in my head that said “just stop for a bit” got louder.

The next checkpoint: Bishop Auckland. Arriving here not knowing what to expect turned out to be an amazing experience. I was greeted with cheers, handshakes, pictures, and of course — a proper cup of tea. A group of Tesco colleagues were ready and waiting to join me for the next leg of the walk, which I’ll talk more about in a moment. But one moment in particular really hit home — seeing someone who had started this journey with me. Despite battling their own struggles, they turned up to support me. That lift, that spark, that show of resilience… you wouldn’t believe how much it meant. It reinforced something we’ve believed since day one: struggles shared are always lighter than struggles faced alone. That message is at the heart of why we’re doing this.

The stop at Bishop Auckland lasted around an hour — a proper refresh. I got a quick medical check, had my feet tended to, and most importantly, had time for a good catch-up with supporters old and new. Just enough time to regroup before pushing on.

Setting off for Newton Aycliffe felt like a breath of fresh air — both literally and emotionally. I was joined by five incredible Tesco colleagues: Karen Bowman, Nicky Humpage, Gemma Manders, Mick Malone, and James Lingard (apologies if any names are spelt wrong — blame Nicky, she wrote them in my notes 😉). We walked around six miles together, and honestly, it flew by. The conversation flowed like I’d known them for years. The pace picked up, my morale lifted to the highest point all day, and every mile seemed to shrink as we shared the road.

A huge moment came when Mick looked over and asked, “Can I carry that ball for you?” Still chained to my arm, Medi didn’t leave me — but Mick picked up that burden willingly and carried it for a good couple of miles. The relief was phenomenal. We walked “arm in arm,” and the symbolism wasn’t lost on me. This challenge is mine — my burden, my weight — but when someone steps in and helps carry even part of it, it transforms the experience. It perfectly captured our message: a problem shared is a problem halved.

During the walk, we talked about Combat Stress, about the struggles it aims to support. I spoke with Karen and Nicky about the past, about memories and moments. Talking to Nicky in particular reminded me of someone close to me — her banter, her way of life, golf!, and her attitude made me feel like we’d known each other forever. The care she and the team showed today was beyond kind — even going as far as finding a place for me and Chloe to eat and stay tonight. Just incredible.

Today’s battle wounds:

• Blisters are now creeping in everywhere — at this rate, my feet are going to be completely covered in Compeed plasters
• Muscles are actually feeling good today — maybe it’s a placebo effect, or maybe it was just the morale boost from walking with such a brilliant group
• With the rain this morning, followed by wet socks, heat, and sweat, I’ve developed a heat rash on my feet — not pleasant. Hopefully we can calm it down tonight with a good soak and a heavy dose of Sudocrem
• Mentally, after today? I’m in an amazing place. The people, the moments, the kindness — it’s lifted me higher than I expected at this stage

As always, Chloe was my constant behind-the-scenes hero. Following along in the campervan, checking in at rest stops, making sure there was food, water, and a smile ready when I needed it most.

I will be forever grateful to all that joined me today and helped me see out this day. Your kindness, your time, your stories — they mean more than I can put into words.

Four days down. Four days of pain, progress, and purpose.

Tomorrow’s another step closer.

Newton Aycliffe to Catterick Garrison tomorrow!

Bring it on.

DAY 3 Galashiels to Consett

Day Three: Galashiels to Consett Tesco Extra

A Shift in Pace – But the Mission Remains the Same

The day started with a moment I’ll never forget. As I got ready to leave from the front of Tesco Galashiels, the team there pulled out all the stops. Early in the morning, they’d organised a piper to see me off in true Scottish fashion. A full troop of colleagues – none of whom knew me – gathered outside, with balloons waving and even dancers there to send me off. That kind of support, especially from complete strangers, hit me hard. It was emotional, uplifting, and exactly the energy I needed to start the day right. It set the tone, lifted my spirits, and reminded me just how many people are rooting for this journey.

Today was a different kind of challenge. After two long days on foot, with blistered heels and aching shoulders, I made the decision to cycle the majority of today’s route – 76 miles in the saddle – before finishing the final stretch on foot. And yes, Medi came with me the whole way – this time tucked into my bag, still part of the journey, still just as heavy in purpose.

The route from Galashiels to Consett was always going to be a tough one, and with the countdown ticking to arrive in Welwyn Garden City on the 25th, I knew I had to make adjustments. To keep on track with the schedule, I opted to cycle a large section of today’s leg while still finishing on foot – making sure every mile still counted, even if completed differently. This isn’t about taking shortcuts. It’s about keeping the promise, finishing strong, and being exactly where I need to be, when I need to be there – for the cause, and for everyone supporting it.

The route itself was long, punishing, and beautiful in parts. Rolling countryside gave way to exposed roads and long climbs that seemed to go on forever. The weather today was winding but kind – a nice breeze and plenty of sunshine. It added a welcome bit of relief to what could’ve been an even harder slog. Some parts were so open and still, it felt like I was cycling through silence, with just the sound of tyres and wind for company.

One stop that stood out came as I reached the England–Scotland border. For a main road, it was surprisingly silent. I paused there for a moment, looking around at the stillness. No cars, no noise – just the sign, the sun, and the sense that I was really crossing into a new stage of this journey. It was strangely peaceful, and it gave me a second to reset before pushing on.

Further along the route, Chloe made her first stop of the day at a small café – the last café in England if you’re heading north. She worked remotely from there while she waited for me to catch up, and when I arrived, we shared a lovely breakfast together. That short break, that quiet moment with her, was something I didn’t realise I needed until I was sitting there. A hot meal, good coffee, and just being together made all the difference.

Eventually, I parked up the bike, pulled Medi from my bag, and walked the final miles into Consett with it back in hand where it belonged. That last stretch, though short, hit hard. My legs were tired in a different way. My arms still sore. And the mental battle was very real.

But the welcome at Tesco Consett Extra made every step worth it. As I arrived, staff stood at the entrance cheering me in, clapping and smiling. A Combat Stress table was set up out front, and donations were flowing in from generous shoppers. Veterans were there to greet me – one even pulled me aside for a quiet, heartfelt chat that meant the world. Then, to top it all off, I was handed a proper cuppa tea. After everything, that little moment of warmth, connection, and support felt like a hug for the soul.

Today’s battle wounds:

• My right heel blister is still with me – ugly, angry, and growing
• Soreness has shifted now into my legs and lower back after the cycling
• My shoulders and arms remain tight from carrying Medi the previous days
• A very sore backside from 76 miles of saddle time – not to be underestimated
• And mentally? Today was draining. The switch in activity helped physically, but I had to really focus to stay on mission

Once again, Chloe has been incredible. Following in the campervan, keeping everything running in the background, checking in, cheering me on – she’s been my anchor. I don’t say it enough: I couldn’t do this without her.

And to everyone from RAFAC – up and down the country – thank you. Your encouragement continues to fuel this mission.

Three days down. 500 miles is still a big number… but I’ve chipped away at it again. Whether by foot or pedal, with Medi always with me, I’m still moving forward.

Bring on tomorrow

DAY 2 Dalkeith Hardengreen to Galashiels

Day Two: Dalkeith Hardengreen to Galashiels

The Journey Continues – Step by Step

Waking up this morning, the aches from yesterday were real – especially in the shoulders and feet – but so was the determination. Leaving Dalkeith behind, I set off on the next leg of this challenge, heading for Galashiels with the medicine ball hanging from my hand, swinging with every step – a constant, weighty reminder of why I’m doing this.

The route today was so beautiful – but definitely tougher than yesterday. Countryside stretched for miles in every direction, with no end in sight. Rolling fields, winding lanes, and long stretches where it was just me, the road, and the silence. It was stunning, but there were moments it felt never-ending – the kind of terrain that tests both your legs and your mindset.

At one point along the route, I stopped by a beautiful stream, tucked away just off the path. It was peaceful, still, and exactly what I needed. I had a quick breakfast – a protein bar and some water – and just listened to the sound of the flowing water. I was close to taking my boots off and dipping my feet in, but thought better of it. Tempting as it was, I knew once they were off, I might not want to put them back on.

About 9 miles in, I stopped for a quick break. I took my bag off and sat down on the ground under a bit of woodland cover. It was quiet, cool, and calm – just what I needed. I stuck Medi – the name me and Chloe have now given the medicine ball – behind my head like a makeshift pillow, and the next thing I knew, I’d had a half-hour siesta without even realising. When I woke up, my muscles ached worse than before, but I also felt just a little bit more human. It was a weird mix of regret and relief.

A big struggle today was the isolation. The terrain I was in meant no internet and no phone signal. That created a whole new obstacle I hadn’t really faced until now – no encouraging messages pinging in, no updates from loved ones, no music to zone out with – just me, my thoughts, and my heavy breathing. It became a mental battle more than a physical one. For the first time, I genuinely thought: I can’t make this. That low point hit hard.

But then, like flicking a switch, I came back into a serviceable area – and my phone went absolutely crazy. Message after message poured in. Words of encouragement, good luck wishes, and support from all over. That moment lit something in me. It gave me the push I needed, the second wind I didn’t think I had. And it carried me to the finish line today.

I arrived in Galashiels in 8 hours and 26 minutes, having walked approximately 19 miles. The pace today felt slower and more challenging, but steady. It was a mental game as much as a physical one, and every step reminded me that this journey is a marathon, not a sprint.

The reception in Galashiels was kind and welcoming. After such a long walk, just a smile, a warm word, or a simple “well done” can make a world of difference. It reminded me how powerful small acts of support really are.

Today’s battle wounds:

• A blister on my right heel that’s now twice the size it was yesterday – painful, but still under control with Compeed and grit
• A migraine, likely from a touch of heat stroke after a long day under the sun – slowed me down a bit, but I managed to push through
• Ongoing soreness in the shoulders and forearms from carrying the medicine ball
  It’s definitely getting tougher, but nothing’s stopping me yet.

And of course, my incredible wife is still right behind me – quite literally – checkpoint to checkpoint in the campervan. She’s the glue holding this mission together, the calming voice, the hot meal, the encouragement when the miles feel longest. I couldn’t do this without her.

Two days down, many more to go – but with every step, I’m closer. Closer to the finish line. Closer to the goal. Closer to helping make a difference for Combat Stress.

Bring on tomorrow.

DAY 1 Edinburgh to Dalkeith Hardengreen!

Day One: The Journey Begins – Edinburgh to Welwyn Garden City

Today, it begins. After months of planning, training, and preparing both mentally and physically, I’ve finally taken my first steps on this 500-mile journey from Edinburgh to Welwyn Garden City – all while carrying a medicine ball.

As I stood at the start point this morning, I was hit by a wave of emotion: pride, nerves, excitement, and a touch of disbelief. The cool Scottish air was bracing, but it helped clear my head. The early morning light caught the skyline just right, and for a moment, everything felt still – like the world had paused to let me breathe before the storm.

The weight of the medicine ball was a sharp reminder of why I’m doing this: to raise awareness and funds for Combat Stress, supporting veterans who’ve faced battles both on and off the field. This isn’t just a walk; it’s a statement of resilience, purpose, and hope.

The night before I set off, I had a conversation that hit me deeply. I spoke to someone who, truthfully, has been the driving force behind this entire journey. Without her support, motivation, and belief in what this walk represents, it might never have made it off the ground. Her encouragement, her energy, and the way she’s kept this momentum going in the background have been nothing short of incredible not that she realises or believes. That conversation reminded me why I started – and why I have to finish.

And every step of the way, just behind me in the campervan, is my amazing wife – my biggest fan, my rock, and so much more than words can ever fully express. She’s there at every checkpoint, cheering me on, keeping me grounded, and picking me up emotionally when the miles get heavy. This journey may look like a solo effort from the outside, but it’s very much a team effort – and she’s the heart of it all. Her quiet strength, her unwavering love, and her belief in me are the reason I keep moving forward.

A massive shoutout has to go to the Tesco staff who helped mark both ends of this incredible first day. The team at Tesco Edinburgh were absolutely lovely – warm, supportive, and genuinely uplifting. Their kind words and send-off helped ease the nerves and started the day on the perfect note. And when I reached Dalkeith Hardengreen, the welcome I received was incredible. The staff there greeted me with open arms and made me feel like I’d just accomplished something huge – which, in truth, I had. Their kindness and enthusiasm helped me realise just how far I’d already come.

Today’s walk to Dalkeith took just 5 hours and 26 minutes – much quicker than I expected. Maybe the nerves got the better of me and I pushed a bit too hard (I’m sure I’ll feel that tomorrow), but the adrenaline carried me.

The route itself was absolutely stunning – and brutal in places. At the start, there were hills. In the middle? More hills. And near the end, just when I thought I’d earned a bit of flat ground… yep, more hills. But what a landscape. Highland cows dotted the route, watching with curiosity as I passed by, and the views were simply incredible – vast open stretches, rolling green, and a sky that seemed to stretch forever. It was the kind of scenery that lifts your spirits, even when your legs are screaming.

And what greeted me at the finish made it all worth it. As I arrived, a piper played me in and a group of people – strangers, yet somehow not – were waiting to welcome me with smiles, cheers, and a hot cuppa tea. I felt genuinely overwhelmed by the support. These people didn’t know me, but they showed up with open arms and warm hearts. That kind of kindness hits you in the chest.

In terms of battle damage for Day One – the shoulder muscles are definitely feeling the strain. Very sore, especially from the medicine ball. I’ve also picked up a small blister on the heel of my right foot and another on the top of my left. Thankfully, both are manageable with Compeed blister plasters – uncomfortable, but nothing that’ll stop me pushing on.

What really kept me going today, though, were the messages. The emotional words of encouragement I’ve received from friends, family, and co-workers have been nothing short of overwhelming. Some made me laugh, some brought tears to my eyes – but all of them reminded me exactly why I’m doing this.

I also want to say a huge thank you to the RAFAC community. The kind messages and incredible support from squadrons and CFAVs up and down the country have meant the world to me. It’s a powerful reminder of the bond we share and the strength of this amazing organisation – and I carry that with me every step of the way.

By the end of the day, my feet were sore, my shoulders heavy, and the medicine ball had started to feel more like a stubborn companion than a burden. But my spirit? Undented. This is just the beginning – and I’m ready for whatever the road throws at me.

Bring on tomorrow.

1 week to go!

Ready to step off!

One man and his med ball 1 week away!

After months of planning, training, prepping kit, and mentally gearing up, the time has finally come – I’m ready to begin my 500-mile walk from Edinburgh to Welwyn Garden City, carrying a medicine ball the entire way.

This challenge isn’t just about endurance. It’s about pushing limits, raising awareness, and showing support for a cause incredibly close to my heart: Combat Stress, the UK’s leading charity for veterans’ mental health. Every blister, every uphill climb, and every mile walked represents a step forward for those battling their own silent struggles long after the uniform comes off.

Right now, I feel a mix of emotions. There’s excitement to finally get moving, nervous about what’s ahead, and a deep sense of purpose. I’ve put everything into preparing for this, physically and mentally, and I’m proud to say: I’m ready.

From Scotland’s rugged roads to England’s rolling countryside, I’ll be sharing updates along the way – the highs, the lows, and the people I meet. If you see me on the road, give a wave or a honk! And if you haven’t already, please consider donating – every pound raised makes a difference.

Let’s do this. One mile at a time.

#500MilesForCombatStress

#EveryStepCounts

#VeteransMentalHealth

HERE WE GO!

A Charity Walk for a Great Cause: Edinburgh to Tesco Headquarters, Welwyn Garden City

By Chris McDowell

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step—and for me, that step happens on 11th June 2025, when I’ll set off on a walk from Edinburgh Tesco Extra to Tesco Headquarters in Welwyn Garden City. That’s 475 miles on foot, over 15 days, with one important mission: to raise awareness and funds for Combat Stress, the UK’s leading charity supporting veterans' mental health.

Why I’m Walking — and Why I’m Carrying a Medicine Ball

This isn’t just a long-distance walk. It’s a walk with purpose. For every step of the way, I’ll be carrying a medicine ball—a physical reminder of the invisible weight that so many veterans carry each and every day as they live with PTSD, anxiety, depression and other mental health challenges.

The medicine ball represents the burden that’s not always seen, but always felt. And just as I’ll carry it mile after mile, veterans carry those struggles long after their service has ended. That’s why this walk is for them—and why Combat Stress means so much to me.

The Journey Ahead

I’ll begin in Edinburgh, setting out from the Tesco Extra store. I work in the Maintenance team at Tesco so I want to stop at several stores on the way and chat to colleagues and veterans about their own mental health. From Edinburgh, it’s 475 miles through cities, towns, countryside and whatever the British weather decides to throw my way. There’ll be good days and tough ones—sore legs, dodgy weather, moments of exhaustion—but the goal will always be clear.

Along the way, I’m hoping to meet supporters, raise awareness in every community I pass through, and maybe even be joined by a few friendly faces for a stretch or two. If you see me and my medicine ball walking past, please say hello—or give me a honk if you’re driving!

Why Combat Stress?

Combat Stress has been there for veterans since 1919, providing specialist support to those dealing with the mental toll of their service. From PTSD to anxiety and depression, the charity offers expert clinical help, therapy, and practical advice to help veterans reclaim their lives.

Mental health struggles don’t always leave visible scars—and too often, they’re overlooked or misunderstood. Through this walk, I want to shine a light on the importance of mental health support for those who’ve served. Every pound raised and every conversation started will help Combat Stress continue their incredible work.

The Finish Line: Tesco HQ, Welwyn Garden City

All being well (and with a few blisters, no doubt), I’ll arrive at Tesco’s Welwyn Garden City Headquarters on 25th June, right in time for our Armed Forces Day celebrations. It’ll mark the end of the physical journey, but not the end of the mission. Raising awareness and support for veterans’ mental health is something I’ll continue to champion

I am raising vital funds for life-changing mental health treatment for veterans.

Combat Stress is the UK's leading charity for veterans' mental health. For over a century, they've helped former servicemen and women deal with issues like trauma, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. Today, they provide support to veterans from every service and every conflict.

I’m taking on vital steps towards ensuring veterans can get the support they need.

Thank you so much for your support.