7am Saturday 30th July
So its finally here.. Stood at the start of my latest
challenge about to run 11 miles, swim 21 miles and cycle 260 miles – from
Jersey to Paris in France. The challenge was called Arch to Arc – we didn’t
have a Marble Arch here in Jersey so a specially constructed Jersey Hospice
Arch was our start point, with the Arch de Triomphe in Paris the destination.
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| At the Jersey Hospice Arch |
The decision to set off had finally been made two days
before, the original window was due to be 2nd to 6th
August but the long range weather forecast had scuppered that plan, and today
was identified as the best day of the lot so the whole thing was brought
forward a couple of days. Cue frantic emails and telephone calls to get crew,
ferry reservations and days off work in place and all was good to go.
The challenge was in aid of Jersey Hospice Care; a charity
particularly close to my heart, and the subject of many of my fundraising
ventures previously. I had been approached initially to look at doing the
challenge by Andy Truscott as a relay in aid of Hospice back in September of
2015, I liked the idea, but felt that for me to be able to ask people for money
I needed to up the ante and suggested that he and I do the challenge head to
head. The concept of Arch to Arc Jersey was born.
I have never been a swimmer in the full sense of the word; I
went through a phase of surfing for a few years and loved the sea, but as for
swimming in the pool for long periods of time, it just wasn’t my bag. Give me
wide open cliff paths, with sweeping panoramas, open roads on my bike and the
opportunity to chat to other people if the going got tough. Swimming seemed too
"in the head" and didn’t satisfy my need for external stimuli when
doing endurance challenges.
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| So happy at the start! |
We had set the date of the challenge as provisionally August
2016, which seemed a long time away in Sep 2015. I was cycling a lot at this
time, and really enjoying it, I started to do a bit of swimming in the local
pool as well just to get a feel for where I was at. Where I was at was the
swimming stroke of an epileptic octopus to be honest. I bumped into a few
people I knew from running at the pool, each of us being as surprised as the
other to find them/me cheating on our first love of running. I started to chat
a little about the challenge, and as I swam away imagined them seeing my stroke
and thinking "Not a chance sunshine.." I was finding it hard going, I
knew the key to being able to swim the distance of 14 miles as the crow flies
in the open sea (but more like 18-20 with tidal variation) was efficiency and
conservation of energy. A conversation with someone I had met one evening in
the lanes proved a pivotal moment, Alastair a friend of a friend at the time
suggested taking lessons as he had found this to help his stroke and
efficiency. I booked lessons for the start of 2016 as I knew I really needed to
address this deficiency.
I opted to go with Leigh, a local swimming instructor, partly
as I already knew her through her husband and partly on reputation as being
able to bring out the best in any stroke no matter how dire! We started a 6
week course of lessons, and after the first session I knew where I was going
wrong and Leigh had put in methods of correction, after week 3 I was starting
to glide in the water rather than flounder and I started to believe this might
be a goer.
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| Super Crew! |
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| Captain Euros! |
I was now into February, I was looking at around 6 months to
go, I had been swimming and cycling and a bit of running, I was fit and feeling
OK, I knew it was the next few months where I had to step it up and get some
endurance in the upper body. I knew the 11-mile run was going to be achievable,
and I knew I wasn’t too far away from being able to complete the cycle; the
swim was the monkey on my back. It was too cold still to be in the sea, so I
decided to start doing some longer sessions in the pool to get used to the
demands of long distance/time swimming. I approached and planned it in the way
I approached running training, with a few shorter swims in the week, and then
building the longer swims over the months culminating in 6 hours hopefully by
the time June came around.
I started with the goal of one hour in the pool, which was
achieved soon enough; I then built to two and then three. Pool swimming is
tough in many ways – firstly the boredom, the pool where I swam a lot of my big
sessions has a big clock so that every time I breathed I could see the minute
hand slowly creeping round. Another is
the ridicule factor. Once one is swimming over an hour or so the factor of
energy and feeding arises: Picture me arriving at the pool, swimming for an
hour and then getting out and consuming a Mars Bar, then getting back in
swimming another hour and doing the same – the lifeguard looking at me and
thinking I am insane, or just extremely intent on getting good value for money.
Another factor of lane swimming is the other people in the lanes, broken down
into:
-The Alpha Male Swimmer – slightly aggressive and bald or balding
and in late 40's or 50's – impressively fast and fluid in the water the Alpha
Male owns the fast lane. Woe betide you if you get in his lane and aren’t as
fast! He will swim way too close and do tumble turns taking care to splash
water just so you know who’s boss! Mostly found at lunch times, either solo or
in packs.
-The Oblivious Sunday Driver Swimmer – In the wrong lane for
their speed, this person is the equivalent of the cyclist in front of the car
when you're trying to get to work or somewhere important. This is where I can
empathise with the Alpha Male swimmer as the oblivious swimmer isn’t aware of
the lane rules, not sticking to the follow direction, swimming breastroke in
the fast lane, pulling out in front of you, you get the idea.
-The Alpha Female Swimmer – See Alpha male swimmer – Powerful,
scary and a little aggressive, Alpha female is the counterpart of the Alpha
male but more scary for some reason.
-The “I paid my entry fee so me and my child can doggy paddle
in the lanes at lunch time if we want to!” swimmer – particularly abundant
during school holidays at lunch times – the time when most office workers hit
the lanes to get their daily swim session. The delightful offspring of these
swimmers will often venture into the lanes with the parent encouraging them,
whilst we swim our arms off trying to get our allotted mileage in before we
have to get changed, get lunch and get back to our desk all within an hour.
These can lead to all sorts of confrontations between normally retiring shy
sorts but the added time pressure upping the ante and making maniacs of all.
Of course not all people using the lanes are like the above
– a lot of good friends use the lanes and put some hard work in in the above
conditions which I decided to view as additional mental endurance training.
So contending with all these issues plus just getting the
hours in saw me through the early spring, I built the hours and by early March
had done 3 hours and was feeling ok. A bit of a bug and a trip to New York put
a 2 week hole in my schedule and set me behind, but once back and recovered I
hit a good 10 week run and got in a groove. Another issue was trying to balance
the ratio of sessions, trying to run, swim and bike each week was a lot of
sessions, averaging 9 -10 sessions a week, and between 7-10 hours a week meant
I had to be quite creative with time – double sessions, lunchtime swims became
the norm and I threw myself into the routine, enjoying the training and slowly
getting fitter and stronger. Being my first serious block of multi discipline
training I enjoyed the fact that I could swim, then cycle and run the following
day and treat it as active recovery – I definitely notice a lot less niggles as
a result of this training and more strength in the core and upper body, which
compared to running training was negligible unless doing weights.
May saw me take part in Aix en Provence Ironman 70.3, a race
I thought would serve as a good intermediate goal to keep me motivated through
the winter. I travelled down with a few guys from Jersey Triathlon Club and
thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie with the guys, quite a few of whom I had
never met before. The swim was cancelled on the day of the race, but the race
went well and I felt happy about the time I did it in. On the way back to
Jersey we did a quick ascent of Mont Ventoux the day after the race – a
legendary Tour De France mountain climb and as we were so close it would have
been a crime not to do so!
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| Mont Ventoux Summit |
Mid May and eight or nine weeks to go – the sea swimming
begins in earnest and the real challenge specific training starts to ramp up - My
first sea swims proper see me spending ridiculous amounts of time at St Catherine’s
bay at weekends, so much so that I make a new friend, Colin, the guy who sells
the sea shells in aid of the RNLI every day come rain or shine. As I was mostly
swimming alone it was nice to know he was there and knew I was out and what I
was doing. Over this period I was doing 3, 4, 5 hour swims and it seemed that
every Sunday I was going up to St Caths and spending most of my Sunday there,
and for the first few weeks in particular the weather was always terrible. I
found this really hard mentally, I would find I was getting very tense in the week
of the lead up to each swim as each time I was adding an hour each time on and
pushing the boundary of what I could do in terms of time and distance, and
walking a tightrope between success and failure.
During this period we also moved house, which really took
its toll on my training in a lot of ways, the house is a doer upper and we had
builders in at the same time we were moving which meant it was very stressful.
I don’t think we realised how much stuff we had either and everything was all
over the place for so long, which added to the feeling of unsettlement. As is
life though we got through this and I got back to training and started to put
the finishing touches to my last 6 weeks – the plan was to do a 50, 75 and 100
mile cycle with the 6 hour swim and the 100 mile cycle being about 2 weeks
before the challenge. I completed the cycles and completed a 5.25 hour swim and
a 100 mile cycle back to back just to prove to myself mentally I could do both.
So from a training perspective I was pretty much good to go, I was disappointed
I hadn’t managed a 6 hour swim but I had eaten too much on the 6 hour attempt
and had to cut short due to feeling sick!
So with 2 weeks to go I was quite relieved. After a
prolonged period of training, moving house and mentally preparing the day of
reckoning was drawing near. I had my life back a little and it meant I could
recover, do things around the house and sort the logistics of the challenge, as
well as fundraising, which was the main point of the challenge.
The logistics of the challenge were a bit of a pain; we were
at the mercy of the tide, which meant that ferry’s and hotels, employers and
potential crew couldn’t be made ready as we didn’t know exactly when we could
go, the best we could do being a vague window of somewhere between the 2nd
and 6th August. Luckily Condor ferries were very understanding in
terms of the travel arrangements and gave us a discount and pulled out the
stops in making sure we got on the ferry we needed for the challenge when we
knew when were going. For a control freak like me this was one of the harder
things to deal with, the uncertainty of when we would be doing it and affected
how I was seeing it in my minds eye to a degree. I also had very understanding
friends who dropped everything to help out along the way – Euros Williams who
skippered the boat kindly lent to us by his employer South Pier Marine, Karl
Moss, Michael and Leigh Chaytor who were on the boat, and Karl and Michael
paddled a dinghy with the shortest paddles in the world all the way to France
nearly as we had no kayak and I was struggling to stay on course. Karl also
came in the car once I got to France and navigated me across France with my
better half Nicola Gott also. I was also really lucky that my boss Prem was so
understanding with the vague timings I gave him about the window and then when
I told him we were going a few days earlier and that I needed that day off for
half day as well as the following 3 days of the following week he didn’t bat an
eyelid.
So I was off on the run. Andy and I shook hands and set off
after a speech from the guys at Jersey Hospice and a klaxon, which I am sure
the people in the nice flats above the lower peoples park appreciated at 7am on
a Saturday morning. I hadn’t done much run training, focussing mainly on the
swim and to a lesser degree the bike. I had a goal of getting to St Catherines
having not worked hard, so I settled into a really easy pace, Andy was just
behind me for the first mile or so which unsettled me a little as I was banking
on putting a little time into him on the run to offset the one hour time
penalty I had taken for wearing a wetsuit on the swim. The wetsuit was
necessary as I was pretty sure I couldn’t stand 8-10 hours in the sea in my
speedos, so I felt the time penalty adequate to offset any advantages the
wetsuit may give in terms of buoyancy etc. The run went quite well, I got to St
Catherine’s having enjoyed the run and feeling relaxed, it took me 1 hour 45
mins and that was the first leg done.
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| On the run |
Andy arrived in about 20 or so minutes later – a lot quicker
than I anticipated being honest and it did play with my mind a little as I had
thought there would be more of a difference. It was here I realised that I had
been outplayed mentally a little, as I had perhaps naively thought Andy would
struggle on the run, it not being his strongest discipline. I had a little walk
and got my head straight, and managed to get my focus back on the completion of
the challenge first and foremost rather than worrying about winning – I still
had to swim to France by the way!!!
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Run Finish
So 10:50 am comes, I am in my wetsuit, and baby oiled to the
nines to make sure no rubbage from the suit on my neck or other bits occurred.
I had been take round to the Beau Coup beach by our skipper Euros and I jumped
in the from the boat to swim to shore to start the race where everyone was
waiting for us to go. Another shake of the hands, a few photos, another klaxon
and off we were. Andy seemed really up for the swim, running into the water and
getting up to a good speed straight off the line. I was a little more reserved,
I knew I would lose time to him on this and was almost reticent to get going –
and my body language in subsequent video footage confirm this. The tide was
optimal though and the wind was behind us, the conditions were smooth and made
for good going. In the first 2 hours I recall looking at my Garmin watch and
having swum 6 miles or so, which I had never done as quickly training, which
made me feel good. I knew the tide was carrying me, I also knew that I would be
swimming more than 14 miles as the crow flies as 4 hours into the swim the tide
would change and start to push up rather than across. I kept my head down, fed
every hour and tapped out a steady rhythm and felt really good. I was taking on
Torq carb drink topped up with hot water and it was doing the trick. As I had
never practised feeding on the swim it was a work in progress, it was difficult
to get near the boat to get the drink, and to then tread water and try and get
the drink down me as quick as possible, but not unmanageable. At one point I
had some paracetamol, which the first lot ended up in the sea as I missed my
mouth completely trying to throw them in, hold my drink and balance!
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| Just before the swim start |
Mentally for the first 4 or 5 hours I was in a really good
place. Energy wise I was feeling good, the miles were ticking by, however I was
inclined to swim off course a little due to no kayak in the water with me. This
was when Michael and Karl did their hero act of pulling out the dinghy and
paddling alongside me so I had a reference point to guide me. I was a bit of a
diva at points I think, as I was so focussed on conserving energy and needing
them to keep me on course and sometimes I would drift off course for them to
call me back on. It was hard and in retrospect a kayaker would have been a nice
to have I think. Around the 7 hour mark Andy’s boat came back past us having
safely delivered him to France, I could see the French coast by now and seeing
them coming the other way gave me the false hope that I was closer than I was.
Euros had said we were still in visual contact with the boat a few hours
earlier so I took this to mean that the coast was closer now than it actually
was. I didn’t know at this point either that Andy had set a new record for
swimming Jersey to France, which is amazing off the back off a run.
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| Mid Swim |
So I got over the fact eventually that I wasn’t as close as
I thought. I knew I was going to get there, it was just a question of when, I
think at that point I had 2 hours to go, the coast was so close but it just
wasn’t getting close enough to get out!! I had my head down, didn’t feed and
just kept on stroking, stroking, stroking, with my waterproof mp3 playing rock
power songs motivating me! I had the bit between my teeth and my crew behind me
willing me on. I had heard Andy had been
stung by a jellyfish on the way in, and I had my own experience with one coming
my way and hitting me my wetsuited arm, it was the size of a football and I was
thankful of the neoprene protection!
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| The new Jersey to France Dinghy Paddling Record Holders |
At around 9pm French time I pushed through the tide and
finally saw the beach proper. Nicola was waiting on the beach for me, and the
moment the sea turned into beach was amazing, I had made it! The sun had come
out, Port Bail was a beautiful long sandy beach and it was an idyllic evening.
As soon as I could stand I did, savouring the feel of terra firma again, I turned
around to the guys in the boat and threw my arms up and thanked them all – I
was so happy, I knew that I could now complete this challenge barring anything
catastrophic happening!
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| On the beach at Port Bail |
As I got further up the beach Nicola greeted my and hugged
and kissed me, this was the best feeling in the world, I had used the fact that
I was swimming towards her as motivation and to see her there on the beach was
great. There was also some fella there with a camera taking photos, which I
though a little odd but I was so over the moon I made my way up the beach with
Nicola bringing each other up to speed on the day so far. A French couple from
one of the houses on the beach came out as they had seen someone in the sea and
thought they were drowning! After they checked I was OK and we explained what
was happening, they kindly invited us in for a shower and drink, which had I
not been pushing on to Paris would have kindly accepted. We instead promised to
drop by another time when we were in the area.
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Welcomed by Nicola xx
Walking up the beach and to the car, my mind switched to the
task ahead: 220 miles (or so I thought at the time!) on the bike to get to the
Arch De Triomphe. I was feeling good after the swim and we made our way to the
car. Nicola told me the news about Andy’s new Jersey to France swim record
which blew me away, I knew that he was about 3 hours ahead of me at this point,
and I was keen to get going. I made my way to the car and started to sort my
gear, getting out of wetsuit, and putting my bike together all the while my
French photographer friend taking pics, and me thinking “Don’t just stand
there, help me!!” It later transpired that the man was a photographer from the
local Port Bail press and had been made aware of our arrival by the mayor of
Port Bail who promptly arrived to welcome me formally to France. This in turn
was made possible by Catherine at the French Consulate in Jersey whom I had
contacted as I was unsure about passport control at arrival in France. To be
welcomed like that was great, we had a few pics and I ate some food and got my
act together, getting ready to set out.
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| Mayoral Welcome |
At this point Nicola told me she had been chatting
to Andy’s crew as they had been travelling over together on the ferry. It
transpired that one of the crew members had told Nicola he was there to
cycle with Andy “..as and when he wanted me”. This was disconcerting news, we
had previously discussed the matter of support riders and as a conclusion of
this conversations, I had mistakenly believed that we would both be completing
the cycle section solo and unsupported in any capacity.
I set off from Port Bail, having set my Google Maps route up
in my Garmin GPS. After 30 mins I realised the route was not fit for purpose
with the track of the route not sitting on top of the road, in fact sitting in
the middle of nowhere. I went off track and ended up down some country lanes
rather than the lovely, flat, smooth road I had been on and quickly got lost.
After an hour or so my first phone call to the bike crew. “Where are you?” We
quickly realised I was on the wrong road and I managed to correct. The matter
of the two of us meeting up was another consideration, eventually we met after
a couple of hours, we discarded the route on my GPS, invented another on and
set a few ground rules; any decision points in the road they were to wait for
me as I was unable to think just do, we would decide on a town to rendezvous
and not change the plan and stay in contact.
It was dark by now, however the road had been flat and the
road good going. I felt energised and cracked on, the plan worked the guys
deciding on the route and stopping regularly. The terrain started to get hilly
after 40 miles or so; long straight-Roman roads, going up and then down and
repeating ad nauseaum. So much for the “nice, flat” route Google Maps had sold
me I thought. I pedalled through the early hours seeing a barn owl in the
middle of the road at one point. I thought I had hallucinated this as it was so
dramatic but I later confirmed that Nicola had seen it as well. At about 4 in
the morning when I met the guys I declared the hills were killing me and
flopped down in front of the car headlights in true dramatic diva fashion. The
decision was taken to rest, we found a little side track, parked my bike
outside the car and I feel asleep in the front of the Nissan Juke for a couple
of hours to uneasy dreams about my bike being stolen (half of me hoping it had
been when I woke!)
I awakened and was hot, sweaty, stiff and stinky. 3 people
and a whole load of gear in a relatively small car creates quite a bit of
condensation it turns out, so I decided to change clothes to try and feel human
(and smell less!) It was starting to break dawn and I was so stiff, the thought
of getting on the bike again and more of those horrible hills wasn’t great but
I knew I had a job to and an Andy to catch. I set off and the guys left me in
search of coffee and croissants.
I negotiated the first 15 miles of the day, and the hills
whilst still there didn’t seem so bad now the sun was up, I could see them and
anticipate them at least, and I felt surprisingly strong. The guys were there
with pastries as promised – no coffee but it was Sunday in rural France! The
mood was good, the sun was coming out, the night had been conquered and we had
nothing but the road ahead, and lots of hills! I set off for the next town and
began to mull over the Andy support rider situation – was Rhys riding with him?
Had we not agreed that there would be no support? Had I known I would have
definitely had someone with me, knowing how hard the night had been to
negotiate alone, having to think, navigate and look out for traffic and stay
alert.
I reached the next town and Karl and Nicola were sat outside
a nice café like they were on holidays. There was coffee, the sun was out and I
was warming up. At another table was a man, I said Bonjour to him, but it
turned out he was from Essex and was cycling around Europe for a year. I was foam rolling on the pavement here,
chatting to him but my back was hurting. The cycle of Ibuprofen and codeine
started here to try and offset the pain. After chatting to Brian from Essex a
little more I headed up the hill with the knowledge that this hill was long and
horrible but after that it was pretty nice for a while.
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| A bit of down time |
I thanked Brian for the heads up, the hill was indeed
terrible but after this I made good time.
The road opened up and I was able to get some good miles under the belt,
I made a stop every 20 miles or so, saw Karl and Nicola’s smiley faces who kept
me topped up with food and drink and were giving me updates on how I was
closing in on Andy. I had the bit
between my teeth by this point; I had been awake since 7am the previous day, it
was about midday but I felt great. I had made up 3 or so hours deficit and felt
that with about 70 or so miles to go I could snatch this from the jaws of
defeat.
For most of the day I had been following a road called the N12,
a seemingly innocuous road when it started, nice, flat and fast, however as the
miles went on and the closer I got to Paris the more like dual carriageway and
then motorway it became. At about 4 pm I met with the guys and we had to make a
safety call; 30 hours of minimal sleep, a pushbike, a limited hard shoulder and
fast French drivers are a terrible combination. I was gutted as it was evident
I was ahead of Andy at this point.
The route was renegotiated going through more indirect but
safer roads, the scenery definitely got a lot better, but I was really digging
deep. I was not capable of thinking or logic by this point, I was following the
guys with them stopping and waiting for me at any points that required decisions.
I found this part the hardest of the whole 2 days – it was getting hot, my
clothes were caked in salt and I was starting to get tired. I knew I had 30
miles or so to go and I was in pain with my back and had developed severely
chapped buttocks, which made me wince in pain each time I sat, or repositioned
on the saddle. A couple of times as we got closer to Paris I lost sight of the
guys and took what I thought was a wrong turn. I called them and they duly came
back to me and I had a bit of a melt down. I was on the edge of my endurance and
didn’t know where I was going. They were great, they knew I was struggling and
placated me; they guided me through the outskirts of Paris, with both me and
them jumping red lights and annoying a few Parisiennes just to stick together.
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| Action Shot |
At about ten or 15 miles to go, the inevitable happened. At
a set of traffic lights I had rested on the back of Nicolas car to avoid taking
my foot out of my pedal cleats. The light goes green, Nicola pulls away and
sideways I go! One bleeding knee and amused French family behind me later and
we are on the final push for the Arc De Triomphe. The end was in sight, and I
was reinvigorated, we headed in through Versailles and made our way to the centre
of Paris. Once the Arc was in sight I was off, riding up the cobbled street
towards it on to the Champs Elysse roundabout. I shot straight across the
traffic to get on to the Arc de Triomphe and stop the watch at 34 hours and 41
minutes. I was aware that Andy had got in to Paris about 10 minutes or so
before me, I looked for him but he was nowhere to be seen, Nicola and Karl had
gone to find parking so I was alone - a little anti climactic as I wanted to
share the moment with them. I walked around the Arch de Triomphe, full of
tourists unaware of the challenge I had just completed. A policeman came to me
and asked me to move on, as cycles were not allowed on the Arc. I explained to
him what I had just done and he said that “my friend” had just been here and
that he was across the way. I started to move along not really knowing how I
would get back across that crazy roundabout! I waited and another police car
came along and told me to move on. I asked them if they could take a picture of
me, which they duly obliged, after I explained again the journey I had
completed.
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Nearly There!!
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| Made It! |
I negotiated the crazy roundabout by hook or by crook and
found the safety of a park bench; I sat down and waited for Nicola and Karl to
return. I reflected on the weekend and the goings on, not really taking in what
I had done, fatigue kicked in and I started to feel unwell. Nicola and Karl
then showed up and we took some selfies and celebrated our success. We were all
tired and had lived a lifetime but we were happy and relieved we had got there.
I was still thinking about the support rider Andy had had, had he relied on him
when the going got tough, had he even rode with him at all? I knew we would all
soon meet up and I didn’t want to cause a scene by asking him about it; at the
end of the day I had completed the challenge, but I knew that I had done this
all on my own, I dwelled on the prospect of him having had someone to ride with
and the potential benefits this would have had had I done the same.
At that point we saw Andy and Russ and Rhys, his support
crew. Andy came over and greeted me, I had mixed emotions, we had completed the
challenge, I was so happy about this. I also felt unwell, and was struggling to
not be sick. It was decided we would go to a café near the Arc for a beer and
food. I ordered a beer and a milkshake but I was struggling, I barely touched
the beer and milkshake and chatted with the guys.
Upon finishing the meal at about 11pm ish, Russ kindly took
my bike in their van so that we could create some room in the car for us to
make the 6-hour journey back to St Malo that night. We were booked on the
8:00am ferry back to Jersey the following and had to get going soon. No one was
in a state to drive, having all been awake for so long. We set off, loaded the
SatNav and headed back to St Malo, both Nicola and Karl putting in big shifts
to get us the 6 hours back to the ferry terminal, and me trying to assist by
navigating where needed, particularly coming out of Paris and an early morning
petrol stop in the middle of nowhere.
6am arrives and we arrive at the ferry terminal and duly
grab an hours sleep, we had made the ferry, just to check in and get to our
seats and we could all stand down and grab some sleep. Condor ferries had been
kind enough to upgrade us to the club class, so we were able to sleep, and
catch our breath.
Back to Jersey and time to disembark the ferry, the 3 of us
getting back into our vehicle, with Russ and Rhys waiting for Andy in the
terminal carpark to fulfil his media obligations. Sleep was the biggest draw
for me not really being able to string a legible sentence together at this
point. We arrived home and it was so nice to be back in my own bed. Reflecting
on the last few days – I had left St Helier 7am on Saturday morning, and here I
was 9:30am Monday morning, lying in bed having lived a whole lifetime in
between those 2 days! Lots to process and lots to be happy about.
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| On the ferry.. |
I’ve always felt that the key to completing these types of
challenges is mostly in the mind, and I think most people would agree; I would
also go further to say that having a really clear idea of why your doing it,
and having an emotional connection to completing it really goes some way to
ensuring success. I have done a couple of these types of things, and each time
I was fundraising for Jersey Hospice Care, which in itself is a great
motivation. I have always had a lot of support from friends during these
challenges, notably the Marathon Des Sables, and Round The Rock x 7, both in
terms of donations to the charity and giving up their time to help me, by
crewing me or helping me fundraise, which adds another layer of motivation to
complete the challenge, as it becomes about making sure their efforts aren’t in
vain also.
After Round the Rock x7 I struggled a lot. The event took
place in August 2014 almost 2 years to the day I set off on this latest
challenge. Recovery afterwards was difficult – running 236 miles in 7 days
meant that I was tired and my body did not know what to do. I didn’t take
enough time to recover thinking I was bullet proof, and started to train for a
marathon about a month or so later. For quite a long time I was in a battle
against my mental reserves and physical limitations – I needed rest for both
but I wasn’t listening. I got slower, I found it hard to be motivated, but was
afraid not to train as I didn’t know what I would do if I didn’t run. I was
entered in the 2015 Marathon Des Sables so knew this was my intermediate next
goal. I completed the marathon I had been training for in October 2014 but it
was nowhere near my personal best, and I felt awful the whole way around. So
began a cycle of intense pressure placed on myself, trying to push through the
dip and come out the other side, constantly comparing my paces, times and
sessions against the same a few months previously and slowly destroying my
enjoyment and desire to continue running. Winter came and went and I trained,
and got ready for MDS 2015, but not really having the edge I had when getting
ready for MDS 2013. I did a warm up race in February – The Pilgrims Challenge,
which I had done in 2013 also, and my mind-set was completely different to then
– complete rather than compete. I didn’t know it then but I was fatigued
mentally and physically still, I just thought I needed to keep pushing but what
I really needed to do was stop and let everything catch up.
On to Marathon Des Sable 2015 and I knew in my heart of
hearts that I wasn’t up for it. I trained hard, but wasn’t anywhere near as
excited or in anticipation as 2013. I remember going to Gatwick to meet the
other guys I knew, and sitting the night before and discussing the impending
race, and not really feeling any buzz. We shipped out to Morrocco, I completed
day 1, had an OK day, day 2 was hard going but I got through it and then day 3
wore away any resistance had. By the end of that day I had had enough, and the
unthinkable came into my mind in the last few miles of that hellishly hot day –
“Why not quit? – You don’t need this, you know tomorrow is the long day and it
will be twice as bad as today – You know what’s coming and it ain’t good!”
By the time I had got back to the finish line and the camp I
was 80% sure I was going to quit, I was tired, hot, hungry and fed up, like a
neglected dog. I went to the admin tent to find out the logistics of getting
back to civilisation and to see if it was viable, I slept on it over night and
the following morning, just as everyone else in my tent was getting ready to
run 60 miles in the desert I decided to call it a day. I was not envious of them at all and to this
day know it was the right call.
So in the 2 years since then it has been a real up and down experience;
I have struggled with being identified as a runner, when in actuality that
title left me at the finish line of Round The Rock 2015 when I ran my last real
miles in anger. I then went through a real identity crisis of not knowing who I
was and where I fit in the world - I was no longer “Paul the Ultra Runner” –
running made me unhappy on so many levels, remembering the times I failed,
remembering the times I succeeded and knowing I might not get back to that, and
seeing other people I knew succeed where I was struggling.
As with any journey though, I arrived at a place where it
began to not hurt so much, I got really into cycling and started to cycle with
the local cycle club Equipe Flame Rouge and learnt there was life after
running. I liked the challenge of learning to cycle, having had a VO2 max test
with Tony Williams and realising I was the cycling equivalent of Eddie The Eagle.
I was set up with a winter plan over the winter of 2015-16 and I trained away
in my garage listening to bad European and 80’s Thrash metal and slowly got
stronger and left a Paul shaped sweat mark on the garage floor of our rented
house. I had no self-pressure, no expectations and was enjoying making
progress.
The completion of this latest challenge has been real
catharsis and has meant that life now feels like an empty canvas again, much
like at the outset of this midlife crisis back in April 2011 when I ran the
London marathon and got into this whole mess. As life would have it a holiday
was scheduled a week later at Club La Santa in Lanzarote, and this was a great full
stop to the months of preparation that went into the challenge as well as the
challenge itself and a great way to enjoy and celebrate it for Nicola and I. I
trained hard in Lanzarote, cycling, running and swimming perhaps with an eye to
completing a triathlon or two before the year is out, but mostly enjoying the
process rather than having to tick boxes or achieve mileages or time in water,
A little film about the challenge
The toll the swimming training had taken on our weekends was
evident and I now look forward to diverting the energy used for it to tending
to our jungle like garden. I have set a challenge of a nice lawn that the boys
can play football on by next summer. This might be one challenge that might be
more than I can manage – you cant control mother nature. More posts on this in
the Spring on my new gardening blog – Extreme Ultra Gardening with Paul.
