By Harry Amos (B1 1999-04) 

Why is it good to do hard things? I’ve learned a lot from taking on big challenges and going on adventures; they’ve taught me more than any classroom or boardroom ever could. I believe these experiences are valuable because they push us to grow, to adapt, and to become stronger. So as you read this, I’d love for you to think about a challenge or adventure you’ve taken on, or one you dream of doing, and ask yourself: why do you want to do it? What’s the point?

It might be because you want to get fitter, escape the stresses and strains of daily life, or simply have fun. For me, I like to be fit and strong, and I thrive when I have a mission. I think it’s important to take risks and believe that fortune favours the bold. More than anything, I want to show my children what’s possible when we truly commit to something. I want them to see that taking risks, stepping into the unknown, and embracing discomfort leads to growth in resilience and self-belief.

By day, I run a company that helps some of the world’s most innovative firms expand into the Middle East. But outside of work, I’m also an aspiring adventurer; someone who finds meaning and motivation in physical endeavour and mental tests of endurance.

Before moving to the Middle East, I served as a soldier for 11 years, starting out as a Royal Marine Commando and later becoming a British Army Officer. I led reconnaissance troops on two operational tours in Afghanistan in 2009 (on Operation Panther’s Claw) and 2012 (in the Brigade Reconnaissance Force). On major combat operations I was exposed to intense pressure, fatigue, uncertainty, and fear. I don’t claim to have mastered them, but to a certain extent, I learned to manage them, and have carried these lessons forward into every area of my life.

Since leaving the military, I have found that the ‘miles remind me of who I am’, and I’ve rowed 4,800km across the Pacific Ocean from California to Hawaii in 39 days. Most recently, I set a world record by running 630km across all seven Emirates of the UAE, completing the challenge in 5 days, 21 hours, and 27 minutes.

The Mission: 630 Kilometres Across the UAE in Under 6 Days

The goal was simple but brutal: to run 630km solo, but with a support crew, over 4,400m of elevation, across the UAE’s seven Emirates, beating the existing record of 5 days and 23 hours. The original Guinness World Record, set by Sean Burgess in 2021, started at the UAE / Saudi Arabian border and finished in the mountainous northeast in Fujairah. I believed there was an advantage in starting with the mountains and so, as allowed within the parameters of the record, I decided to flip it. The route, therefore, would take me from the shoreline of the Indian Ocean in Fujairah, over the mountains and across the deserts of the Arabian Peninsula (through Ras Al Khaimah and Umm Al Quwain), then through the great city-states of Ajman, Sharjah, and Dubai, before running along the coastal road of Abu Dhabi to the border with Saudi Arabia.

I was to start from the beach, up a 500m climb into the Hajar Mountains on the 31st January. The physical start line might have been in Fujairah, but my mental start line was further ahead: at the border between Dubai and Abu Dhabi. This was 210km into the run, but the start of the incredibly long and lonely 400km road through Abu Dhabi where things would get serious.

Preparing for the Impossible

So how do you prepare for something like this? Key for me was to identify the cruxes of the challenge; these are the make-or-break elements that I prioritised in my plan. There were three big ones.

First was temperature: I had to choose the coolest period of the year because I respond badly to high temperatures and humidity. If it was too hot, there was very little chance I’d make it, let alone get a record. So setting the date around the coolest time of year was the first port of call. This, in the UAE, is the last week of January / first week of February.

Second crux: nutrition. I needed to consume a huge amount of the right kind of food. This was going to be expensive and logistically challenging as I had to feed me and the full support crew. Partnering with Spinneys supermarket (the UAE’s Waitrose partner) solved that issue.

Third crux: injury prevention. Staying injury-free was critical. I was lucky to secure medical support from M42, the largest health group in the UAE. They provided me with a medic and physiotherapist to help keep me moving as my body began to twist and break.

Nine months out, and week on week I increased my running volume culminating in 120km per week. Simultaneously I worked hard on strength, doing up to three sessions weekly. Strength training is the cornerstone of injury prevention. As the start date drew closer, I shifted my focus to fine-tuning my fuelling strategy while simulating back-to-back legs, running up to 90km over a 24-hour period.

Courage, Crisis, and Calves: The Run Begins

The night before the run, I could barely sleep. I was coughing with a cold, tired, and full of nerves. The pressure was almost overwhelming. I even considered postponing. That would’ve meant letting down my family, my team, my sponsors who’d cleared schedules and supported me, and besides, the weather conditions were perfect. I’d been here before; the same feelings echoed before every raid I ever conducted in Afghanistan. Almost completely sleepless, I got to the start line.

Day 1, 4am on the beach, I stared up into the black silhouetted mountains. My wonderfully dedicated friends, who’d driven two hours in the middle of the night to show their support, counted me down and cheered as I set off. The first 35km took me 500m uphill into the mountains to the town of Masafi. After grabbing a quick breakfast, I then ran the 75km across the Arabian Desert into the city limits of Ajman. 110km done; not bad considering I was nursing a chesty cough. I even managed to enjoy some of it, helped by the presence of my friend and performance coach, Nick Coates, who (I must admit) has an incredible set of calves that I followed for 8 hours.

Day 2 was all about expectation management. I’d trained up to 120km, so I mentally framed the first two days as a “warm-up.” The real test would begin after about 210km, beyond my home Emirate of Dubai. From that point forward, I knew I was stepping into the physical and mental unknown. It was brilliant seeing my friends and family as I ran through Sharjah and along my local haunt, Beach Road in Dubai. But as I approached Ghantoot, the old Dubai / Abu Dhabi border, I knew the honeymoon period was over… and I was exhausted.

Day 3 began with a signpost: “E11 396km.” I still had 400km of Abu Dhabi road ahead and it was time to lean into the pain. The day started well…a bit too well. Sure enough, by mid-afternoon, 70km in, I hit the wall. I wasn’t even halfway and I was full of doubt. To make things worse, that evening, joined by loyal friends, the road system became chaotic at rush hour as we crossed multiple spaghetti junctions. A few horns were beeped, and someone clearly lodged a complaint. As we completed the day’s 100km and rolled into camp, we were shadowed by two police cars. We’d been running in a group, which they had deemed dangerous and probably fairly so. The officers were professional and polite but insisted I go to the police station. I spent the night in the waiting room as they completed paperwork. Finally, on the condition that I continued solo, I was released at 3am only an hour before setting off at 4am for the fourth day. A full night’s rest lost; it was a costly blow.

Day 4 was tough. I was in a dark headspace. These kilometres were not the same; they felt heavier, slower, endless. My legs were really sore, now swollen from ankle to hip which could only be only momentarilly releaved by elevating them at each pit-stop. The challenge had shifted; it was no longer about energy management… it was about pain management. Now 360km in, the last 160km of which on zero sleep, I began drifting into micro-sleeps on the move. Mid-afternoon I was snapped back to reality by a truck horn when I wandered into the road. That’s when I called Nick. We agreed to stop early at 75km. I was 25km short of target and morale was low.

Recovery, Rhythm… and the Final Push

Day 5 was a new day and brought a glimmer of hope. I’d finally slept a few hours. I wasn’t fresh (to say the least), but I had momentum. I found a rhythm and a headspace of positive distraction, and,  even though I wasn’t hungry, I was forcing down food well. We cracked 100km, and, more importantly, I began believing again. That decision to ‘live to fight another day’ and stop early on Day 4 had been the right call.

Day 6. The final day. 130km to go. At 3am, over a bowl of hot Ambrosia rice pudding, Nick and I made a plan and set the goal for the day: 100km done before 8pm. A fair target. By the afternoon, 60km in, I was fading fast. “It’s still such a long way,” I said to Nick at the next pit stop.

Nick replied calmly, “Harry… it’s always been a long way mate. What’s the goal for today?”

“To finish of course,” I said.

“No mate, the goal was 100km before 8pm.”

We broke the next marathon distance into 7km chunks. Section by section, I made it. In fact, we hit 100km 30 minutes ahead of schedule. On one last break I lay in the caravan, staring at the ceiling, no real emotion, just calm exhaustion. I then ate a bowl of noodles and set off into the night.

The Finish Line

Final 30km. Just after midnight. I’d been moving for 21 hours, was hallucinating, and thought that my friend Max was running with me. Time warped and minutes were feeling like hours. The closer I got to the finish the further away it seemed. Clarity returned only in the last 5km… and it turned out Max had been running with me after all for over an hour!

At 1:27am, I crossed the finish line and was overwhelmed with relief and gratitude. Relief the pain was over. Gratitude for my team, friends, and familly who had driven hours to be there and supported me for the months beforehand. I hugged my wife and said, “Never again!”. Ten minutes later, like a light switch… my legs turned off. I was lifted up and sat down in my camping chair and had one of my now famous one-minute naps. We then drove the four hours back to Dubai. It wasn’t until the next day that the pride and sense of accomplishment really hit me.

What’s the Point of Doing Hard Things?

People say, “No pain, no gain.” But what’s the gain? It’s this: when we take risks and move outside our comfort zones, we learn and grow. We build resilience. We grow in confidence. So that when life throws challenges our way, we’re better prepared to face them.

So what should you take away from this? ‘The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step’. When faced with something big; a project, an exam, a personal goal; identify the crux, then break it into small, bite-sized chunks. It’s a Jedi mind trick that makes the impossible feel doable.

All you need then… is the courage to take that first step.