A Journey Through Loss, Resilience, and Hope By John Phillips
Introduction: Still Water Runs Deep
People often ask why I take on challenges that most would never attempt, why I run until my body fails, swim through darkness, and test myself to the limit. The truth is, I’m not chasing records or recognition. I’m chasing peace.
For almost twenty-three years, I served in uniform. I lived through moments where life was measured in minutes and trust in seconds. I saw how quickly order could fall into chaos and how courage could dissolve into fear. Those years taught me lessons about leadership, endurance, and the strength of the human spirit when the mission says go, even when everything inside you says no.
But nothing in those years prepared me for the silence that followed. When I left the military, the world seemed louder, faster, and somehow emptier. I missed the structure, yes but more than that, I missed purpose. I missed knowing why I was here. And so began a different kind of mission.
From Service to Self: A New Mission
When I discovered the Enduroman Arch2Arc challenge, I wasn’t looking for glory. I was looking for healing.
The Arch2Arc is one of the toughest endurance events in the world, a triathlon that begins with an 87-mile run from London’s Marble Arch to Dover, followed by a 21-mile swim across the English Channel, and finishes with a 181-mile cycle from Calais to Paris. Fewer people have completed it than have summited Everest.
But for me, it wasn’t a race. It was a conversation with grief.
When you lose people you’ve served beside, when you carry memories that never fade you search for meaning in the aftermath. For me, endurance, martial arts and music are my form of therapy. And this event was a way to honour those who couldn’t keep going, and to prove that hope can still be found in movement, in discipline, in the small act of a step forward.
That’s what led me to do this event for StrongMen, a charity that supports men suffering from loss, grief, and trauma. Their mission, to help men talk, connect, and rebuild, this resonates deeply with me. Because strength isn’t about lifting heavy weights. It’s about learning to carry what you can’t put down.
The Run: Pain, Purpose, and a Sky Full of Stars
The 87-mile run from London to Dover began at midnight. The streets were empty, apart from the London party crowd, the air cold, the path lit by my headlamp, and my head-to-toe illuminous gear, resembling something like a running Cyalume. At mile nine, pain had already set in, years of carrying Bergan’s and kit at 55 years young takes its toll some days, my thigh, knee, and old ankle injury screamed like tooth ache in the bone. But in that pain, I found clarity.
I remembered the words of a friend: “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.” What a great cliché!
At around mile 35, Coldplay’s ‘A Sky Full of Stars’ began to play. As the music filled my ears, my thoughts turned to my wife, my sons, my parents, my family, my friends and those I’ve lost. A wave of emotion hit me so hard that I began to cry while running. And then, something extraordinary happened. The pain disappeared. It felt like a bright light washed through me, not adrenaline, not delusion, something purer.
For the next 45 miles, I ran weightless. It wasn’t strength that carried me. It was love. I completed the 87-mile run in 20 hours and 56 minutes, a time that reflected every ounce of discipline, emotion, and resilience I had left to give.
Brotherhood Beyond the Uniform
Endurance might look like a solo act, but it never is. My coach, Jon Cowell, was there from the start, helping me refuel and keep focus. My wife Heather and my stepson Andrew drove through the night from Northern Ireland to support me on the road. And my swim coach Keith met me on the boat.
Their faith reminded me of the brotherhood I’d known in the forces, the unspoken understanding that someone has your back no matter what. That same bond is what StrongMen builds every day for men who have faced loss, reminding them they’re not alone.
In war, in endurance, and in grief, communication and trust are everything. When either fails, things fall apart. But when it holds, when people come together, that’s where healing begins.
The Swim: Into the Dark Waters
After a short rest of around 10 hours, I entered the Channel. The sea was warmer than the cold waters of Port Ballintrae, the day was very kind to me, and although the night was bright because of a full moon the water was dark, so dark that the water seemed alive.
A heavy spring tide surged beneath me, carrying me forward one moment and holding me back the next. It was like grief itself, unpredictable, unforgiving, but always moving.
I swam for over 40 miles before calling a stop and asking for help around the 17-and-a-half-hour mark. I had noticed that my nasal passages were closing down and that my breathing was becoming difficult and there is no doubt exhaustion was also part to play. The moment I stopped, I wasn’t defeated, I was a human who loves life and wanted to survive. Sometimes, knowing when to stop takes more strength than pushing beyond reason.
Something I must add is that prior to stopping and in a quite bizarre moment, I thought I heard high-pitched sounds, dolphins I thought. Then quickly my mind reacted with I must be hallucinating and becoming delusional. I couldn’t see them in the dark, but the crew told me that 2 dolphins swam around me and the boat before fading into the night. It was a surreal and humbling moment, a reminder that even in the darkest places, we are never truly alone.
Discipline, Recovery, and the Science of Resilience
When my body started to fail, it wasn’t strength that kept me going, it was discipline. Years of martial arts, military service, and training taught me how to stay calm when everything else falls apart.
Since leaving service, I’ve dedicated myself to understanding resilience, not as a word, but as a system. I studied business, counselling, and natural medicine, earning an International MBA, postgraduate qualifications, and continuing into doctoral research. I came to see endurance as an ecosystem of body, mind, and spirit.
That same understanding drives my work with Advanced Tactical Resources Ltd, who support Strongmen. We train people, from security professionals to humanitarian workers, to survive and lead under pressure. It’s also why I support StrongMen, because true resilience isn’t about toughness; it’s about connection. It’s about learning that you can bend without breaking.
Lessons in Loss and Hope
The Arch2Arc tested me in ways I couldn’t predict. It exposed my limits, my weaknesses, and my humanity. But it also gave me something priceless, perspective.
I didn’t complete the full challenge…. not yet. But in that unfinished journey, I found something more valuable than victory; humility. I learned that sometimes, progress isn’t about crossing a finish line. It’s about showing up, again and again, for yourself and for others.
That’s the lesson of endurance. That’s the lesson of grief. You keep moving forward, not because it’s easy, but because someone once couldn’t.
Still Water Runs Deep
This journey isn’t about athletic glory. It’s about honour, healing, and hope. It’s about turning pain into purpose and reminding others that strength comes in many forms.
Every mile, every stroke, every breath was a tribute to the friends I’ve lost, to the brothers still fighting silent battles, and to everyone who has felt the weight of grief and still found the courage to keep going. Because still water runs deep. And even in the darkest water, there is always light.
StrongMen Charity Feature StrongMen provides emotional and physical support to men who have experienced bereavement. Through outdoor challenges, peer connection, and practical programmes, they help men find strength in community and rediscover hope through action.
"Strength is not the absence of pain, but the courage to face it together."
