Before the start line Before departure
Still Trying To Find Richard
Three days before I left Perth, #FindRichard was still doing a bit of everything: sponsor hustle, public joke, and the slightly ridiculous optimism that helped carry HAA toward the start line.
Three days before I left Perth, I was still trying to summon Richard Branson into the story.
That sounds grander than it was. It was not a boardroom sponsorship strategy. It was me, in the final week before a walk across the country, making a shirt mockup, tagging Virgin Sport, and trying to turn a very unlikely idea into enough noise that someone might notice.
HAA had been serious for a long time by then. I had a route, a cause, months of long days in my legs, supporters around the project, and a start that was no longer theoretical. The Richard Branson thing sat alongside all of that as hopeful noise: one more attempt to find support, get people looking, and keep the final week from becoming nothing but nerves and logistics.
I do not think I ever truly expected him to appear with a giant cheque or a Virgin Sport logo stitched onto everything. It was more of a pipe dream with a grin attached. I was in think-big mode, and Sir Richard Branson was the perfect symbol for that: bold, playful, and able to make an idea feel larger just by standing somewhere near it.
The first version probably started in Surfers Paradise the year before, around the Gold Coast Airport Marathon. Coach Markus had been filming me chatting to an international athlete who was in town for the race, and while we were walking around we made a video asking Sir Richard to get involved. In my head, that made a strange kind of sense. It was also completely ridiculous, which was part of the appeal.
By 13 May 2015, the bit had become a tiny public thread. Early in the morning there was a rough red HAA shirt mockup with a Virgin Sport logo on it and a fantasy future where a Hearts Across Australia team might run the London Marathon together. By lunchtime I was expressing mock concern for Richard’s wellbeing because he had somehow failed to respond immediately to my generous offer. By the evening, the search party had hashtags.
That was the tone I needed that week. The serious parts of HAA were everywhere: the distance, the cause, the people who had given money, the support crew, the physical risk, the fact that I was about to leave my family for months and try to cross a continent one day at a time. The Richard Branson joke let me keep a bit of play in the room. It was sponsorship hustle, yes, but it was also a pressure valve.
Someone did actually play along. A former boss of mine, the owner of the business I had worked for, got in touch at one point to say he could pass the message on. Nothing ever came of it, but the walk happened anyway, and Richard missed out on being part of something cool.
That was part of the HAA energy in those final days. The thing was serious, but it was not solemn. We were trying to cross a continent on foot, raise money, find support, make noise, and somehow keep laughing while the start came rushing towards us.
This was not Day 1. It was not one of the grand origin moments either. It was one of the final small scenes before departure: ambitious, public, slightly nervous, moving fast, and trying to stay human while the actual start came rushing towards me.
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Day 4 #FindRichard
A Day 4 roadside #FindRichard clip, keeping the Richard Branson and Virgin Sport thread alive from Great Eastern Highway.
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