Philosophy of perspective: Your time is now. Life is just lots of moments of now.
How running changed my perspective of time and purpose + how you can too.
Dear Reader,
To dream big, and to dare to try.
When people ask me why I run, what motivates me, or how I manage to do what I do, I often return to a simple truth. I believe there are two paths in life: the path of no, and the path of yes.
Let’s begin with the obvious—if you're reading this, you're already among the fortunate few. You have the ability to read these words effortlessly, which means you have sight, access to the internet, a device, likely a bank account, a physical address, and probably the freedom to walk to the fridge or nearby store to feed yourself whenever you choose. You may have the liberty to worship your god, take a holiday, pursue an education, treat an illness, or even choose which socks best complement your outfit.
The truth is, we are often blind to the magnitude of our privileges. That awareness—or rather, the lack of it—is what motivates me. I am obsessed with being present, with valuing my finite time on this planet.
Let me offer you a few sobering statistics:
Over 2 million children die every year before their fifth birthday due to malnutrition.
Only 20% of the global population will ever leave their own country.
1.2 billion people live in extreme poverty—on less than $2 a day.
We become so entangled in the routines of our daily lives that we forget to zoom out. Caught in the net of societal expectations and instant gratification, we lose sight of how extraordinarily fortunate we truly are. Our privileges are built on three pillars: freedom, opportunity, and time.
And so, I choose the path of yes. Yes to investing my time on Earth wisely. Yes to taking ownership of the opportunities before me. Yes to honouring the freedom I could so easily overlook—the freedom of choice.
If I am lucky enough to grow old and grey, telling stories to my grandchildren, I want to look back knowing that I lived every day in conscious gratitude—not just aware of my fortune, but acting on it. I want to traverse every corner of this planet, to offer help where I can, and to exhaust every ounce of my potential. I want to stretch myself beyond imagination and leave this world knowing I squeezed every drop from my time here.
To love and be loved. To work with purpose. To value every moment. To spend as little time as possible in the illusion of the “comfort zone.” I believe it is the wild dreams—the unconventional, the frightening, the almost foolish—that carry the potential to create real change. Through bold adventure and daring pursuit, I choose yes.
But it wasn’t always this way.
There was a time when I was trapped behind a desk in a high-stress finance job, blissfully unaware that life was slipping by. Everything changed after a conversation with a stranger in the middle of the Sahara Desert. We were competing in the Marathon des Sables—a 260km race across the sand—when I struck up a conversation with a man named Kev. We were strangers, trudging through heat and fatigue, when he revealed something that stopped me in my tracks: he had recently been diagnosed with terminal prostate cancer and might only have two years to live.
Over several days, as we ran through the desert, Kev opened up. He told me what it felt like to know he might never see his son turn eleven. And then he said something that has echoed in my mind ever since: “Nick, whatever you do, don’t wait for a diagnosis like I did.”
Kev had lived as though tomorrow was guaranteed. Like so many of us, he had drifted from one day to the next, never questioning whether the sun would rise and he’d be there to see it. His words struck me like lightning. Three weeks later, I quit my job and vowed to live by his advice.
Call it reckless, naïve, idealistic—perhaps all three. But I created a plan to raise awareness and funds for Prostate Cancer UK, the leading charity combatting the disease in Britain. That plan involved taking on a running challenge big enough to get the world’s attention.
Two years later, I embarked on an audacious mission: to run a marathon in every single country on Earth. The plan worked. And everything I have now—the world records, the books, the documentaries, the business, the travel, the charitable work, the incredible friendships around the globe—all of it stems from a conversation with Kev. He opened my eyes to a deeper truth: we have no idea how lucky we are.
Did you know the average person lives for about 29,747 days?
When you subtract the time spent sleeping, working, commuting, tidying, waiting, scrolling—the mundane grind of life—we’re left with only around 5,000 days to truly make a mark. How will you use yours?
Running has transformed my life. I’ve been privileged to turn a passion into a profession, and for that I owe a profound debt of gratitude—to Kev, to the act of running, to the path that led me here, and to every person who nudged me forward.
Thanks to running, I’ve seen the world. I’ve stood at the rim of volcanoes, swum alongside whales, and set foot in every country on the map. But more than that, the journey has cracked my heart wide open to the truth of our shared humanity and the fragile, fleeting nature of time.
So—dream big. Value the now. Recognize your privileges. And take action. Your time is not tomorrow. Your time is now.
Run well,
Nick
email: nick@nickbutter.co.uk
web: nickbutter.com
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