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About aquavista

Age 45.

Valencia Marathon 2025 – The Quiet Fire….

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Before the Start Line……..

And so here we are again.

Another marathon weekend.

Another city.

Another starting line I once absolutely swore blind I would never stand on again.

Life is funny like that. It nudges, it whispers, it prods, and before you know it you’re pinning on a race number and realising, with a mixture of disbelief and excitement, that you’re here again. Running 26.2 miles on a winter’s morning in Spain, chasing a dream you don’t quite know how to define anymore — only that you feel it, deep down, and that’s enough, for now at least. 

Anyway, I’m not there yet – I’m sat at Gate 50 at Manchester Airport at 3:45 on a December  morning, waiting for a Ryanair flight to Spain. And it is flipping cold, and right now I’m just pondering life choices with myself. 

I only started running about 12 years ago. I was never even capable as a kid: badly asthmatic and taking inhalers many times a day, I could never run more than a short sprint. Then when I became an adult (if that ever really happened 😳), life took over. Work, kids, and ‘balance’. I was always too busy to exercise. Actually that’s complete bollocks – I never even tried other than hiking now and again. I also didn’t look after my body. I smoked, drank (too much), burned candles at both ends. I stopped smoking when I was about 45 and discovered I didn’t need that inhaler anymore. I was reborn, but won’t get either all preachy or remorseful about anything. “Don’t look backwards, you aren’t going that way……”. 

I owe running at all in fact to my son Dan. Round about 2012 or so when I’m already the ripe old age of 48, he called me and asked if I’d do the Great North Run with him. It took me less than a nanosecond to say yes, driven by two things, and in no particular order as they say. 

One, the Great North Run had been the one big motivational and exciting thing I’d always followed, albeit on TV (I’m from the North East and fiercely proud of it). And it had always been my Dad’s excitement too, he being a former semi-professional footballer and athlete. I didn’t know it at the time, but in just over 12 months from then he’d die from cancer. Life is short. And secondly Dan wanted to do the run and for me to help train with him and all the rest of it, even if we did live several hours apart. He’d become a bit overweight up until then (I’m being kind, I’m his Dad 🥰), and was about to start his own journey to a completely different place in terms of fitness and lifestyle. And that Great North Run story is told elsewhere…..https://aquavista.me/2012/10/

And so let’s fast forward to New York in 2019, when after quite a few more Great North Runs, I decided to step up and do my first ever full road marathon in New York. Go big or go home! I didn’t think I was capable at first, and although the body (even mine) is resilient and can be put through all sorts of torment if we push and train it hard enough, I didn’t know just how much of a step-up from the half to a full marathon would be for me. It was like the difference between walking to the pub and climbing Everest in a storm. 

After recovering from New York (it took a while!) and then Covid and all that fun, I entered my second marathon, Berlin, in 2022. It was harder still than New York, as this time I pushed myself for a good time (for me, this was 3:37). It took every ounce of discipline, effort, and everything I had to get to that finish line. And then only about 8 months later I thought I could hopefully beat that time before I got to my 60th birthday, and life then presumably started going back downhill again. We can’t forever push against the sands of time after all!

So when I crossed the line in Manchester for my last marathon in 2023, I said – quite emphatically – that I’d never do another one. It had taken too much out of me, and my time of 3hrs 35mins was every single bit of sweat and tears that I had inside me. I trained hard, doing around 800 miles of structured, no, regimental, training en route. And so that was supposed to be it: the final bow, the last medal, Finito Benito. I meant it at the time, too. But here I am. And if I’m honest, I’m glad the universe didn’t listen. I may think differently this coming Sunday afternoon of course 😬. 

So why then? Well, I’m nothing if not stubborn and determined for one. I’m also easily influenced at times, and I’m also acutely and increasingly more aware of my own mortality as I get older. Life really isshort – it is no cliché. 

I’ve been so very very fortunate over the last few years to be able to do more or less what I wanted when I wanted. I’m more or less retired from a career that has taken its toll in terms of stress and fatigue, but it also has given me that ability to be where I am. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, and never take life for granted. There I go again with those clichés!

But since I moved to the Lakes and my absolute lifetime dream of being in my favourite place Ambleside, a different sort of running took over. I got, quite literally, into the mountains. 

In the last two years or so I’ve done four big mountain ultras of around 50 miles. Another of 35 or so in Thailand, had aspirations of getting into the biggest ultrarunning circus of all, the UTMB, and then realising I was deluding myself. It has been hard (and gets harder!) to push myself, and in last years Lakeland 50 I did that, completing around 9,000 feet of climbing and 50 miles of the Lake District’s punishing terrain in 13 hours and 20 minutes of busting a gut. Type 2 fun indeed!

My main fun though in fitness terms is now the Social Running Group that I’m a member of in Ambleside. Every week, usually twice, we go out in the evenings come rain (which is often the case in the Lakes) or shine for shortish (usually 5k, sometimes 10) runs on the fells with a pint (better, two!) at the end. It is wholesome. It is with like-minded, wonderful, friendly people. It is entirely non-competitive. It is perfect, and I love it dearly. I intersperse that with the occasional half marathon (ok, I’ve done four this year so far, including the ever-present Great North Run), and that’s (way) more than enough. But that’s my balance in life now. I can still go for a pint down the Golden Rule, eat somewhat less than optimally in terms of diet, and get out on the fells. I walk those fells too. They fill my soul with so many endorphins. 

So anyway, a couple of months ago I was sat on the sofa watching Countdown (as you do), and was suddenly feeling a bit sorry for myself. I had had toothache that wouldn’t shift for about three weeks despite visits and treatment from the dentist, including root canal work. A friend of mine asked, I’m sure quite meaningfully, if it might be something more than just toothache. Like jaw cancer for example? Well that didn’t play on my overthinking brain one bit I can tell you 🤯😫. At least the toothache didn’t get worse when I ran. So I did. And then, disaster, I pulled a calf muscle. Only a type 1 tear, but recovery would/could take 6 weeks I was told by a physiotherapist. Fuck-a-doodle-doo! I was confined to a lifetime (or so it seemed) of daytime television. 

So I did what any self-respecting (or rash, impetuous and idiotic, you choose) man-possessed would do, got straight onto the nearest internet booking site and found me a marathon to aim at. I needed something to aim for, get myself fit and rehabilitated as quickly as I could. Something to keep me alive. I found Valencia which was about 7 weeks away. Putting then a search into ChatGPT which said “devise me a training plan for a full marathon, except I’ve got only six weeks to train and have a type 1 calf tear and told I shouldn’t run at all for the time being” confused it no end I can tell you 😳. 

Anyway – I’m here. I got healed quickly in about two weeks of persistent and dogged calf raises and physio. I did a bit of running on the treadmill and got up to 18 miles in the next four weeks. I didn’t get anywhere near a proper structured training plan, but then I’m not here to go for a time. I just want to get round. I’m hoping I can still manage under 4 hours though, as I have to set myself something to push towards. I’m like that, you see 🙂. 

So Valencia is a marathon for the soul. My soul. 

It’s also a late-year punctuation mark if you will. It has also been a funny old year in terms of several things in the rest of my life, which I won’t bore you with or go into detail here. And I’ve wittered on for long enough after all, and my plane will no doubt board soon too. 

Suffice to say it is a line drawn under the past twelve months – all the joy, the mess, the hard miles, the surprises, the frustration (with myself, mostly), the quiet triumphs, some people who came and went, and being grateful for the ones who stayed.

It’s a chance to step forward into whatever comes next… with purpose, with breath, with clarity, with heart.

But here’s the thing I’ve learned – sometimes the marathon you’re most ready for isn’t the one you’ve trained perfectly for. It’s the one you enter with humility, honesty, and an acceptance that you will give exactly what you have on the day, and no more.

My Garmin, that ever-optimistic little liar, tells me I’m due a 3:58.

We will see.

I suspect it will come down to heart, legs, weather (which at 23 degrees C in the forecast is a long way from being in my favour and way too hot for me), luck, and whether the red wine I inevitably drink tomorrow night decides to bless or curse me.

But mostly, it will come down to this:

I want to get to the finish line. For me, for my kids, for my Grandkids. For the memories. For the knowledge that I’ve given it what I have on the day. 

And I want to feel done. Done in the best way – the way that makes Christmas feel even sweeter on the other side.

And because life is too short not to chase the things that pull at you.

Because standing in a crowd of thousands, waiting for the gun to go, hearing your own heartbeat and knowing that you chose this – that is one of the most grounding, life-affirming sensations a person can have.

Because this race is part of a longer arc.

A journey that began long before Valencia and will continue long after it. Because I’m not done. 

It’s not even really about running at all. 

It’s about choosing to live with passion.

To keep stepping forward.

To keep saying yes to the things that move me, even when they scare me or stretch me or arrive at inconvenient times.

It’s about remembering that we only get so many chances to stand on a start line in this life – literally and metaphorically. And I don’t want to waste mine. My body is definitely not a temple and never was. More a bit of a train wreck most of the time – but I’m lucky, so very lucky, at my ripe old age to be still able to do these sort of things. Very blessed indeed. 

Wish me luck, I’m going to need it. 

Let the games begin…….in Thailand!

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So as I mentioned in my last blog post (which seems like a long time ago now), I am more than very keen (for that read maniacally desperate) to try to enter a small portion (OCC) of the UTMB next year. In order to do so, I have to pick up what are called “running stones”, and these can only be collected if you compete (and indeed complete) one of the 30 or so worldwide qualifying events. Without this you cannot even enter the lottery for UTMB for next year. So having looked at what was still left in the calendar, I found that there were only three to choose from…

And the three that were left before the deadline closes were in Hong Kong, Australia and Thailand. All quite a long way from the English Lake District! I decided not to be deterred! Hong Kong however was sold out, and so that left two. Australia seemed like a very long way to go for one running event, and so I was left with only one choice. Thailand or bust!! So after a few frustrating attempts to get registered via the UTMB website and then the Doi Inthanon one (the name of the event in Thailand in early December), I managed to finally get approved and accepted. So I’m in!!

There are actually four events happening in Thailand on the weekend of the 8th/9th December. I’ve chosen one which most closely matches to the event I wish to do next summer, as this should give me the requisite number of running stones I hope. If not then it is a long way to go and a lot of money for nothing!

The event itself, a 55km ultramarathon, looks amazing. Set on the fringes of the jungle around Chiang Mai, in the northern part of mainland Thailand, the event centres around Doi Inthanon, which at around 8,500 feet is the highest mountain in the country. The run has around 3,000m of ascent (and a corresponding amount of descent) and so is going to be brutal. Add to this the mountain terrain, coupled with jungle, probably leeches and other nasties, and it is going to be hard work for sure. Oh and of course this is Thailand, and so it will be about 30 degrees C with about 85% humidity. I hate the heat and start to overcook when it gets about about 15 degrees 😳.

Also the event is one of only three worldwide UTMB World Series Events, and it actually carries double running stones. This means it will be very competitive, and attracts some of the world’s best athletes. And also very busy, as I believe there are over 5,000 participants taking part. 

So what am I doing there you might ask! Well I am certainly not trying to be competitive. Firstly I have never tried to run a 55km event before. Secondly I haven’t trained for it, and then there is the aforementioned heat. Let’s also add to this the fact that two and a half weeks ago I managed to break a toe, stubbing it on the wall coming out of the bathroom. So I haven’t even managed to wear proper shoes for the last two weeks or walk properly, so you can imagine what that has done for my prospects of even being on the starting line. My flight leaves in 11 days!!!

All I want to do though is get round. There is what I would normally consider a generous cut off time of 14 hours. In normal circumstances, even with the heat and the ascent, I’d be confident that I could speed walk 55km in that cut off time. But this is not normal. For one if I knock my broken toe on anything at all I’m out, good and proper. Also the heat and humidity will be crazy, and there is a lot riding on this, i.e. the UTMB itself. I have to finish, even if it is in 13 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds. So that’s the aim. 

The hotel is booked, the flights are booked, the time off work is arranged. I’ve even signed up for a 5k mini event on the mountain the day before. Why, because it is there, and I want to be part of it all and take it all in!

If nothing else, it is going to be the most amazing adventure, and almost like nothing I have ever done before. Cross fingers for me that my toe at least holds up enough for me to get round. Drugs will help!

Bring it on…….☺️

The Conquest of Paradise…..

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For those who don’t know, which will be most people (I was one of them until a few weeks ago) Conquest of Paradise is a part choral song written in the 90s by Vangelis, of Jon and Vengelis fame (Chariots of Fire an all that). It was written as the theme tune for the Ridley Scott film of the same name, which I’d never heard of either until I looked it up. The relevance to the here and now is that it is played as all of the athletes line up for the start of the UTMB. Oh and I love it with a passion, too. 

I’ve watched now probably four or five UTMBs, and in the build up the tension is just palpable, so the slow humming and the crescendo to this music couldn’t be more fitting. It just grips you, or it does me anyway. I’ve watched people on the starting line of the UTMB absolutely overcome when the music gets going. Do listen to it and you’ll see what I mean. 

I have just spent a weekend in Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc. Home of the 1924 (and first ever) Winter Olympics, gateway to hundreds of miles of trail running, acknowledged home of alpinism, ski resort, gateway to the largest and highest massif in the Alps, and of course the start and finish line of the UTMB itself. Incredibly Chamonix is a town of just over 8,000 inhabitants, and yet gets over 5 million visitors a year. It is never hard to see why.

Looking towards Mont Blanc (which is in the clouds unfortunately) from the centre of town.

It’s my tenth of so visit to Chamonix. The first twice I went to try to summit Mont Blanc itself, at 4812 metres (15,774 feet). Unfortunately bad weather stopped both attempts. The first time we didn’t even get out of town. The second time I got a tantalising and frustrating 400 or so vertical metres from the summit before the guides turned us round due to high winds. So we have unfinished business, her and I. 

The next eight times I have returned mainly as a tourist, sometimes paragliding, sometimes a bit of (road) running, and often also some trekking, but nothing too strenuous or serious. It’s a great place to just hang out and indulge yourself. Being positioned as it is in the centre of the Haute Savoie, the main three dishes you will see on every local restaurant menu are raclette, fondue, and tartiflette. All a cheese lovers delight. And I LOVE cheese, especially the local stuff. I love too the local wine, and will always try to have that as a preference too. Check out the Mondeuse if you like a good robust red like I do. 

Ahhhhh, my beloved tartiflette 🙂

This weekend though, as you will have noticed if you saw my last blog post, I went with a purpose. I would love to try to get myself into the lottery for next year’s OCC, the miniature version of the UTMB, at 55km with a mere 3,750m of climbing. So I came to do a little trail running, but only a little, just to get the juices flowing as it were. 

Looking towards Argentiere from the top of Flegere, I am ready to take on the descent…

I set my sights on the final 7.5km stretch of the course (each of UTMB, CCC and OCC share the same final 50km or so). It is all downhill, thankfully, but that doesn’t alleviate the technical aspects of the run. It is steep, and I was to find out just how steep when on the Sunday morning I found myself stood at the top of the descent. As a guide, I tend to walk on the flat at about 15 minutes per mile. I run on the flat at between 8 and 9 minutes per mile. So running downhill must be quicker than that right? Wrong! 

My first downhill mile was 16 minutes. The second 17. The course is too steep to run until about mile 3, and then the ground is rocky, dusty or scree-laden, with 170 degree switchbacks and tree roots and loose rocks too. Add to that the edge of the narrow path is so precipitous in places that a fall would result in tumbling to your death hundreds of metres down to Chamomix itself, and you can see why your footing needs to be precise and steady, as a minimum. My heart was in my mouth for most of those first two miles. Thankfully I had a brand new pair of Hoka Speedgoat trail shoes on, bought the evening before in my favourite outdoor shop in town, Snell Sports. The shoes were grippy and didn’t miss a beat. I was delighted I didn’t bring my more well worn pair along with me. 

Around half way down, time to stop and admire the view….

The views are stupendous too. You overlook the Argentière vallley to begin with, then the Mer de Glace, the longest glacier in the Alps, then the Aguille Rouge and the Aguille du Midi, and seemingly smouldering above them all is the summit of Mont Blanc herself. All this from a tree lined terrace that is called the Balcon du Sud, and at about 2,000m up. I got the cable car up there, naturally. But you had better not look at the views. Sure footedness is essential, particularly when you are a novice and fairly nervous descender like yours truly. So I looked firmly and surely at foot placement for every inch of the first two miles, although I did have a couple of stops for that Kodak moment. I couldn’t leave it all just to the memory bank. 

Finally the path widened and I could actually get to run a bit of it, the camera stayed tucked away otherwise.

Around the middle of mile 3 you pass through a beautiful little mountain café called Chalet La Floria, and after you are through here, smiling at the beauty of it all, you realise that you have passed the most dangerous and steepest section, and you can actually almost relax and enjoy it. Well, relatively speaking anyway. 

I think I managed 10 or so minutes a mile for both of miles 3 and 4, smiling and deliriously happy. The last half mile or so is actually flat, along the gently tumbling banks of the glacial L’Arve River. This then takes you directly into the centre of Chamonix, and to the little street by the town hall in front of the church. The Place d’Eglise is in fact where the throngs assemble for the start, and also cross through the arch of the finish line, for the UTMB itself. 

The Place D’Eglise, the eglise itself in the background.

As I came running into the Place d’Eglise the music started playing in my head. It was Vangelis of course. “In Noreni per ipe, In Noreni Cora…..”. It got louder. The crowds were cheering. I stopped, bent over, sobbed. I was utterly spent, physically and emotionally. The Conquest of Paradise indeed…..let the music never end…….

The Ultra Tour du Motivation…..

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I have threatened to write a new blog post now for the longest time. Three years in fact. Maybe four. I last threatened to do so when going to Everest Base Camp last year, but even that didn’t apparently inspire me enough, although I did have a dabble at one. Blogging takes time, quite a lot of it in fact, brain apace, sometimes research, and it also takes motivation in spades. Without these coinciding, it’ll never make (my) airwaves.

I used to really love doing my blog posts too. I’ve done (I counted them as I’m a bit sad like that) around 300 of them over the years and got a lot of views and some great feedback. I don’t do it for the likes though, it is just really a personal diary. It’s for me, and I look back from time to time at the really memorable ones. Like when I flew back from Bolivia over the Rio Grande and marvelled at the wonder of it all. I still marvel a lot, in fact.

And so now, here I am, writing a new blog post, and so you might be curious as to why? Well the answer lies in a few factors which I will set out below, but the main protagonist here is clear and simple. UTMB. Yes, you heard that right. 

Maybe, just maybe……

For those who don’t know, UTMB stands for the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc. The world’s (probably) most famous and prestigious trail run. It is a circumnavigation of Western Europe’s highest mountain, going through France, Italy and Switzerland, is about 178km long, and covers about 34,000 feet of climbing. Not for the faint hearted you might say, and before anyone (and especially those who know me) tell me I have finally gone completely and utterly gaga, I’m not even dreaming about it (actually that’s not true, I won’t ever NOT dream about it). I am however seriously, after some hard soul searching, setting my sights on the mini version thereof, called OCC, part of the UTMB finals, and over what is basically 1/3 of the (final section) UTMB course. Yes indeed. 

So onto the why then. Well, there are a lot of reasons, but the main one is that for the last few years, and particularly since I moved to the Lake District, the whole trail running world has totally captivated me. And although I’ve never been a fell/trail runner, and am particularly indisposed to it in fact, I love it. With a passion. Last year I watched live on some dodgy YouTube feed almost every single minute of Killian Journet’s record breaking win of UTMB in 19 hours and 49 minutes. It was breathtaking. I was punching the air with delight, hardly breathing at times.

Beating the 20 hour mark had stood as a target that many thought would never be beaten. It was the pinnacle of human endeavour, and I totally idolise Killian Journet, so even more fitting that it should be him who broke the record. It was one of those things like the two hour marathon or the four minute mile that people thought couldn’t be beaten. It’s his fourth UTMB win, and of course his Eiger and Everest and other mountain feats are stuff of legends too. He is a god to me, pure and simple. I watched this years too of course. Fervently. I was delighted for Jim Walmsley who having given up the last two years of his life to live in Chamonix, has become the first American to win the race. He’s conquered everything else, and deserves his success, even though Killian wasn’t there this year, injured.

If I actually trace the inception of my love for all things UTMB back, the seed itself for this was actually sown four years ago. I was in Chamonix for a week training for the New York Marathon, with my then other half, and now good friend, Mel. In the middle of the week, on a non running day, we walked the stunningly beautiful Balcon du Sud from just north of Argentière, up to Flégère, and down into Chamonix. On our way down, we passed some trail runners and I remember saying at the time words to the effect of “I’d give my left arm to do that”.

Lac Blanc, just off the Balcon du Sud

What I didn’t know at the time, was that section is part of the UTMB itself, the final 7km of every trail runner’s dream. The part where since I have watched Killian Journet, and Jim Walmsley, and Courtney Dauwalter, and Katie Schide, run to glory, with people in Chamonix screaming in exultation, and me looking on at a YouTube feed thinking “I want to be them”. 

Well I can’t ever be those people, and I know that. I also could never, especially now in my advancing years, be fit enough to complete UTMB. That’s for the hardcore and serious athletes. There are two cut down versions though, the CCC, which is 105km and about 7,000m of climbing, and the OCC, officially 57km and 3,942m of ascent. The latter, if I train and train and train and train, is I think possible. OCC by the way stands for Orsières-Champex-Chamonix, the final part of the main event. I’ve done two Ultras of longer, both 75km, albeit with less climbing (around 2,700m), and so I’m not completely overwhelmed by the magnitude, but I do know that this will be a massive level tougher, with monster climbs and cut off times to probably defeat all those who aren’t absolutely at the top of their capabilities and fitness on the day.

I have of late, read and watched many a YouTube video on OCC and the whole finals week at UTMB. It is jaw dropping. There is also a little problem facing me though here. Having read and watched the tributes and the dissections of the athletes, all will say the same thing – there is only one thing harder than actually completing such a gruelling event, and that is getting a place on the starting line in the first place. 

Firstly only 1,200 people are allowed to start OCC. They cover this by a ballot, and to be able to even enter the ballot you need two things, both very hard to achieve. The first is called a UTMB Index, which means you need a ranking having taken part in one of the worldwide qualifying events. Secondly you need at least one Running Stone, achieved by completing one of only 37 different events in the two years up to the OCC itself. There is only one of these events in the UK, and many of the others are both a very long way away and also just as hard to enrol for as UTMB itself. But I’m not letting that put me off!

The journey therefore starts here. Last night, having finished work for the week, I decided to book myself a flight to Chamonix for the weekend, where I sit now writing this, albeit with a glass of wine currently. It’s probably my tenth time here I’d say. I’m going to have a mooch around, breathe in the air, go into a few trail running shops, and then get the cablecar up to Flegère. From there I’ll walk (maybe even lightly jog, who knows, my trail running shoes will be on) down to Chamonix, and listen to the voices in my head calling out at me to do this for real. The voices are strong, they got me to write this blog in fact, and I know, just know, that this will be the first of many blog posts on this subject. 

The journey doesn’t start here. It has already begun. Santé!

It’s nearly Nepal time!

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I’ve just discovered something which has absolutely staggered me, and that takes a lot usually I can tell you. And that is, it has been almost 11 years since I wrote a blog post about Everest Base Camp! It seems so ridiculous that I don’t even believe it myself, and so if someone wants to correct me then please do so, as I can’t find one! Sure I will have mentioned it more than once I am very sure, but I haven’t actually blogged about a trip there in all that time. And why might I drag this up you might say? Well I am going there next week (again) that’s why!

In fact if I were to write a soliloquy here and now about my life, and in fact this is probably part of just that, it would have to include the words Nepal, Kathmandu and Everest Base Camp.

Let me rewind. I first went to EBC in 2011, and to say I loved it would be the understatement of all understatements. In fact the first time I was fortunate enough to stand at the foot of the world’s tallest mountain I blubbed, unashamedly, like a baby. There are no words, still, that I can find to describe that feeling, and I have been back twice more too!

For me, to be fortunate enough to be able to go on an adventure which takes you to this place, is just the best thing that you can do. Phrases like ‘living my best life’ and ‘the adventure of a lifetime’ are almost entirely inadequate. I think I wrote first time round, that amongst other things, for those who like high mountains and beautiful age defying scenery, the place has nothing close in terms of a parallel. As just one statistic, the highest mountain in the world outside of the Himalayas, which is Aconcagua in the Andes , is 6,962m, or 22,840ft. In the Himalayas there are over 100 mountains above this height. You stand in awe, lost for superlatives, at the momentous and staggering beauty of it all. And that’s just for starters!

My first appearance (2011) in front of Everest, which is in the centre of the picture in the background.

My first trip to EBC was as part of of an unsuccessful attempt to climb Island Peak. I wasn’t ready, had no idea what I was doing, and that contributed to some altitude sickness. My mind was made up very firmly by the time I reached Kala Pattar (where the above photo was taken, which is THE vantage point for Everest) that I would be heading down next. And for those who don’t know, at Everest Base Camp you cannot see Everest at all. At Kala Pattar (about 400m higher than base camp) you get the best view – not bad is it?

Amongst so many other things that I learned on that trip, it was probably the reverence with which the local communities and indigenous people, (the Sherpas), hold Everest, that stuck the most. Just the name, Chomolungma (“Mother Goddess of the Universe”) tells you enough. But you also learn along the way that from children to the very old, these mountains are sacred in every way. Indeed many peaks in the Himalaya (I love just using the singular term for them) remain unclimbed as respect for the Gods who look over them and the people who live, breathe and respect their holy shadows.

The trip left an indelible imprint on me. Thrilled me, inspired me, and led me to do many other adventures in the mountains far and wide, from South America (twice), to Russia (of all places) to many trips to the Alps. This having already been to the roof of Africa, Kilimanjaro, too. So much so that in 2017, when having decided that I would never have the physiological capacity or ability to stand on the very summit of Everest, I had to go back. It was a magical trip. I’ve no idea why I didn’t blog about it, but it was fabulous.

The magic of that first trip, was, if anything ever better second time. I had a better understanding, a better appreciation of the culture, the landscape, the history, and the people. The first time I was in a daze almost (literally in fact, at times). When you are there the first time it goes by in a flash, and you are concentrating on your objective. The second time you understand why you are there. Everyone will have their own reasons. For me it wasn’t even one thing (to be at the foot of the greatest/tallest/most majestic thing on planet earth), but so many others. I loved Kathmandu alone for example, before I even got to the Himalayas. So much so that I booked an extra two days there just to hang out in the streets and shops and suck it all in.

I also loved the prayer flags, to the extent that my every house since that first trip has had some prayer flags flapping away in whatever garden I have had. I love the prayer wheels, the mantras, the gompas, the stupas, the whole ‘om mani padme hum’ thing, the food (dal bhat and Sherpa stew anyone?), and the people. The Nepalese people I have in fact found to be the most humble, welcoming and friendly people of anywhere I have ever been. They are so ridiculously proud (and rightly so) of their traditions, music and culture. They exude this from every pore. It is palpable, beautiful and infectious.

Durbar Square Kathmandu – no good if you don’t like birds, or cows!

And so in 2018, I did it again. Same trip, just different travel company. 2017 was Ian Taylor Trekking, and 2018 was Exodus. For me, the difference between the two was huge. With Ian Taylor Trekking the whole time was incredible. Our guide, Ang Kami, was incredible, as were the rest of the team. The tea houses were great, and it was just a brilliant and amazing adventure, where your enjoyment and experience was always first. It was also educational, and exhilarating, even more so than the first time. With Exodus in 2018, although the trip and experience was as good as ever, I found that Exodus scrimped on money to every extent they could (and I’m being kind!), and it took away from the overall enjoyment a bit.

In 2017 I finally got to actually sleep, in a tent, at EBC!
And here is the shot at the entrance to EBC itself, a picture which hangs on my wall at home and always will.

In 2019 I was determined to go again. Although I may have waxed lyrical above about the whole thing, I don’t think I could ever put into words on a page just what it feels like for me to be there. I’m often asked in fact, given what a big world it is out there, why I would keep going back. The answer is really simple – I love it beyond compare to any place I have ever been to. I can go on my own and feel utterly fulfilled in every one of my senses, and more.

In 2019 though, with my then partner Mel, we had none other than the New York Marathon (my first ever) in the November to get through, and that was such an incredible highlight on its own that I didn’t even miss Nepal! I did however, or we both did, book to go Nepal in March 2020. It would have been my first time to do the spring (climbers, pre-monsoon) trek to EBC. However, the world would sadly close its doors of course to foreign travel that very month. Bags were packed, and it was I think 6 or 7 days from getting to the airport when Covid would have other ideas for us and of course the rest of humanity.

So since March 2020, if I said here that I’ve been somewhere between itching and desperate (much closer to the latter) to repeat the whole thing, then it would be a huge understatement. It is my first proper trip post pandemic, apart from the Berlin Marathon. I’ve booked myself two days each side of the actual trek so I can take in again all of the sights and sounds and smells of Kathmandu. Ian Taylor Trekking will be my guides. Although I have to say that (despite the fact that I’m very happy to be going with them) I could indeed guide myself these days :).

A tiny bit of Thamel, in the centre of Kathmandu.

So, given the fact that I didn’t blog the trip with Sheree, Al, Pip and many others in 2017, or Mark, Emily, Em, Ali and others in 2018, this one is getting the full treatment! Every trip is wonderful, and the people are always special regardless.

So roll on Thursday, and a flight to Kathmandu via Doha will start the adventure off.

Namaste!

The Berlin Marathon 2022 – what a day!

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The phrase “it’s finally here” just seems like the biggest and most ridiculous understatement of all time at this precise moment. I am stood, well sat actually, between the Brandenburg Gate and the Victory Column on one of the most famous avenues in the world, the Strasse des 17 Juni, amidst a crowd of 45,000 runners, and many many times more spectators. I’ve walked up past Checkpoint Charlie and Potsdamer Platz, then assembled at the very steps of the German Reichstag, the seat of power of probably the most famous and indeed infamous ruling parties in all of history. Indeed Hitler’s Bunker is close by too, as is a square mile memorial dedicated to the Holocaust. Within a few hours I’ll have run past der Mauer, the Berlin Wall, and many more iconic places in this most incredible city. Oh and Eliud Kipchoge is here as well, amongst many other legends. This, is the 2022 Berlin Marathon. 

For me it is the culmination of a lot of effort to get here. All of my own making, as I’m a stickler for following a training schedule, and managed to pick a very thorough and hard one! I’ve run 6 days a week since May, and if there’s one thing I know full well, then that’s no matter how today goes I will not be putting either of my feet in a pair of trainers next week! 

It’s funny also (or not funny in this case!) how little things can threaten to almost derail your plans, even at the last minute. For example, despite some rather meticulous preparation to make sure I got myself here with everything I needed, yesterday two small happenings both caused consternation. 

Firstly my watch strap on my Garmin broke. “First world problem” I hear you say! But as someone who has his face literally glued to his watch on every run I do, then I literally couldn’t run a race like this without it. Both pace per mile and heart rate are crucial to whether I speed up or slow down, and probably even finish at all. Thankfully I found a shop in Berlin who stocked spare straps, and so that little hiccup was solved almost straight away. I’m just relieved it didn’t happen on the way to the start! And then potentially worse, yesterday I found myself running to the loo after breakfast with a dose of the trots.

If there’s one thing you don’t want for a marathon it is to be without energy/nutrients and also dehydrated. Thankfully it passed as quickly as it seemed to start, and after some crisps and a coke it seemed to subside. Phew! I did end up drinking rather a lot of water to make up for it, and hopefully I’ve now got rid of it all!!

Right – so I’ll update this after the run……..

So here I am, at Brandenburg Airport the following day. And overall it went great, in that I got a PB and beat my target time (whoop whoop!!) but not without some little trials and tribulations!

So firstly I just never really felt comfortable at all. I must have overdone the liquids beforehand, as despite peeing about 10 mins before the run, and not drinking after that, I felt like I needed the loo from the off! Only for a pee thankfully (I’d managed to otherwise “go” successfully beforehand for a number two, and I bet you really needed to know that!!!) but the feeling just wasn’t going to go away. I was determined not to have to stop, trying hard for a time of under 3hrs 40mins, which I knew would be tight. Every second counts! I figured then that I’d just run off the need, as perspiration and respiration took care of any excess fluids, but nope, it wasn’t going away. By mile 10 I could think of nothing else, and it wasn’t until about mile 16 that I found somewhere to go, thankfully finding some portaloos when I was fearing that I was going to have to duck into an alleyway and then get arrested by the German police! 

And then my flipbelt was just too tight. I’d swapped between two flipbelts in the weeks before the marathon (the ethos always being ‘never try anything for the first time on the day’), but I was between sizes. The medium was a tiny bit slack, and it caused a bit of bouncing and chafing when full of gels and phone etc. and chafing can be at best a terrible distraction, so I bought a small one. It was tight! I did wear it for the Great North Run, and whilst I was aware of it the whole time it was never uncomfortable. So I went with it here. I think that maybe because my bladder wasn’t empty properly it just exacerbated the tightness. I just wanted to rip the thing off, and at one point I pulled my phone out and carried it in my hand, but that was just another distraction, and I didn’t want to drop it either.  

Oh and also my shoes started to bother me at about mile 12! I wore the Vaporfly in the end, and despite these having been worn many times before, they ended up hurting my toes. I felt like I was getting a blister on my left toes early on, and then my right big toe starting aggravating me. You just don’t need or expect these things when you are doing a marathon! My toe has literally turned black afterwards, and having only lost one big toenail in my life, and heading off to Everest Base Camp in three weeks time, I really hope this one doesn’t go the same way.

I think that all of the above ultimately led to a bit more stress than I needed, and that culminated in an elevated heart rate. More of that below!

So on the plus side, despite what was a crazy long walk to the start, the rest went well! The hotel where I stayed was about two miles to the start, and I chose to walk (along with the rest of the group who were in the same hotel), so by the time I’d got through all of the backwards and forwards to get to the correct wave, I’d done almost 10,000 steps already!

I managed to pace things exactly as I wanted though. I’d set myself the target of trying to get just under 8 mins 18 seconds per mile overall, as that would beat my target of 3hrs 40mins. I knew I musn’t go off too fast, and so I’d told myself to do 8min 30s miles for the first two, and then to just very gradually make that up later on. In the end I did 8:28 and 8:21, and was pleased with that and settled into my stride. The weather was ok early on too, at about 12 degrees, and pretty much perfect conditions. I was in Wave E, so set off about half an hour or so after the fast runners.

Most of the first half of the run was pretty much straightforward, and I went through the half marathon in 1:49:18, which was pretty much exactly where I wanted to be. My heart rate up to then was at around 160 to 162, and whereas I’d preferred it lower, that was all fine and manageable. But the pressure of needing to pee, and the tight flipblet, and the sore feet, and then it started getting hot (to was 18 degrees at there end, too hot for me!) just led to escalating heart rate after that. I ended up averaging 183 over the last few miles, and touching 190, which is (obviously) just way way too high. I actually stopped twice to walk, to calm it down (it didn’t), and that just should never happen. I also had to stop for that pee! At about mile 18 it was all too much really!

So the last few miles were all really a bit too much hard work. I didn’t really bonk, but I was just hanging on for actually most of the last 10 miles. I really don’t want this to sound like a big gripefest, but I can only tell it how it is. Despite my fighting against myself, I did so much enjoy running under the Brandenburg Gate – it was all I could do to contain emotions, and the headrush was extreme.

I remember also thinking to myself on so many occasions towards the end that I was leaving everything that I had in me on the streets of Berlin. There would be no wondering about whether I could have run faster, or should have done things differently. I had given it my best, my all, and that’s all I had on the day. And that’s all I can ever ask for really.

It has been a long road to get here, and I am so glad that I did it. Marathons (for me anyway!) just take all that you have got. They take a lot of planning, of sacrifice, of dedication and motivation, and of drive and desire. I put all that I had out there, and 3 hrs 37 mins and 58 seconds later I had (and have for all time) a beautiful medal and some amazing memories to show for it.

Me producing a smile as the finish line is in sight – the Brandenburg Gate in the background.
This is pretty great too of the Brandenburg Gate – I’m in there somewhere…… 🙂
And it is finally done!!
The anticipation of 45,000 runners at the start..
…to the exultation that it is all over!
The medal in closeup, it is heavy and great quality, and Eliud Kipchoge is on the reverse side!
And here is my Garmin at the end!

So the first thing I heard as I got into the finish area in front of the German Reichstag and got to sip a (sadly non alcoholic!) beer was that Eliud Kipchoge had broken the world record – I was (albeit an infintessimally small part) of history!! His time was a completely remarkable 2:01:09, and he’d gone through the half way point in 59 min and 51 seconds apparently! That legitimate 2 hour mark remains tantalisingly close – and it is so incredible and amazing to have been there as part of (albeit a very long way behind!!!) the day that history was made for all time.

For the final records, I was apparently 392nd (out of how many I don’t know, it might have been 392!!) in the over 55s category, and 8,108th overall out of the 45,000 who started. Not that those numbers mean anything at all. The only person I was competing against after all was me, and I did all that I hoped I would, and am ultimately over the moon with the result.

Berlin is a fabulous place, and incredible marathon, and was an utterly incredible experience, which I will remember for the rest of my days. Whether I will ever do another one is a subject for another day – my immediate thoughts afterwards were “that’s it, I have nothing left to prove to anyone”.

And in any case, I have Nepal to think about now. It is coming up, I am very happy to say, very soon indeed………

Final Blog Post before the big day….. :)

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And so the VERY big day is rapidly approaching now. Indeed in just two days time I will be in Berlin (or I hope I will anyway :O) getting nervously ready for the big day on Sunday. It has been a long road for sure…..

It feels a bit incredible now that I started my training plan for this event in May. Especially as we sit here now with much cooler days, the nights drawing in, and yes, I saw Christmas decorations and mince pies in the supermarket yesterday – ridiculous but true!! Since then I’ve covered approximately 700 miles, gone through two pairs of trainers (they tell you they last 350 miles and I’m a stickler for the rules!) and countless energy drinks, tabs, gels and the like.

I’ve also bought several new running vests (it is going to be about 17 degrees in Berlin and that demands being as cool as I can get), new shorts, some fancy Alphafly shoes that I may well not even wear (more on that below), and had the flight cancelled that I was supposed to be going on. But no matter, I’ll get there, by hook or by crook, and give it my best shot.

Speaking of best shots, I’ll put it down here now – I will as things stand be (only a little bit) disappointed if I don’t/can’t break (but just!) 3hrs 40 mins. That’s the target, and I’m going to everything I can to get to it. 3 hrs 39 mins and 59.9 seconds will do – that’ll have me cheering/doing metaphorical cartwheels. When I started my training, using Hanson’s Marathon Method (great book, but VERY detailed :O), I wanted to get to 3 hrs 45mins, and so that’s what I’ve trained for. That is 8m 35s miles. To put that into perspective for me, my only marathon was in New York, 3 years ago, and I did 3hrs 54mins, and I was delighted with that.

I’ve found though that as the training has gone on, despite the odd hiccup (like having to go for a colonoscopy in week 15 for example!) I’ve got generally stronger in terms of how relaxed it has all been. That doesn’t mean faster, but in terms of heartbeat. I ran today for example, for 5 miles, at an overall average of 9mins 2 secs, and my heartbeat averaged 133bpm. I think at the start of this programme that would have been about 20 beats higher. So that doesn’t necessarily mean I can do much better in terms of outcome of course, it just hopefully means I have a greater aerobic capacity to get through it. According to my Garmin watch too, my VO2 max predictor has gone up from 48 to 52 over the programme. Again, it doesn’t mean diddly squat when it comes to the day necessarily, but hopefully it at least brings confidence. After all, a lot of running is in the head too.

But what it has translated to is a faster pace per mile in training on tempo runs without getting over-exerted. My tempo (marathon pace) has gradually slightly been lowered (by me, based only on ‘feel’) to around 8 mins 20 seconds a mile, and that would equate to 3hrs 38mins and 20 seconds (precisely!). So let’s see if I can sustain 8:20 pace for 26.2 miles, and see what happens!

So the schedule is to get to Berlin (early) on Friday morning, go to the Expo (which is mandatory as you have to collect your bib etc there) in the afternoon, and then just chill as much as I can. There is a ‘shakeout’ run scheduled on the Saturday morning which I may do too though. In fact there are a couple of those – one with Sports Tours International (the company with whom I’ve booked the trip), and one with Ben Parkes and his followers. Ben is a 2:25 marathoner and esteemed YouTuber, who I follow too https://www.youtube.com/c/BenParkes – he’s a bit geeky but also entertaining and informative. He unsuccessfully attempted the UTMB a few weeks ago, and I found myself absolutely crying with him even on the starting line he was that emotional.

Interestingly, in Ben’s very latest post he was deliberating on choice of shoes. He can’t decide between three different pairs, and you’d think that someone who is a 2:25 marathoner would have it nailed down with three days to go, but apparently not! That makes me feel slightly better as I can’t decide between two pairs. I have loved Nike Vaporfly since I bought them before New York, but I bought some Nike Alphafly this year, intending them for this very race. However, the Alphafly are a bit heavier and clunkier (I wore them for the Great North Run two weeks ago), as opposed to lighter and more nimble for the Vaporfly. But, most of the serious athletes (including none other than the GOAT Eliud Kipchoge who I noticed arrived in Berlin today (not that I’m stalking him or anything :O)) choose the Alphafly, and quite honestly I’ll take all of the artificial advantages I can possibly get my hands on!

I’ll take both pairs to Berlin and it might be a toss up in the morning of the run as two which go on my feet, but the Vaporfly are favourites at this point in time, probably :D. First world problems indeed!

So the run itself begins at 9:15 on Sunday morning. I will have to try very very hard to contain emotions of just being by the Brandenburg Gate, where it also finishes. The Brandenburg Gate is just such an iconic monument in history. When I saw it last time (I’ve only been to Berlin once and was fortunate enough to have a little run through it too) it was almost overwhelming then, so what it will be like with the excitement of the event I can only imagine.

When I did New York I was very lucky to have Dan and Sadi come and cheer me on and meet up at the end. And the picture below was during the post race beer (or two) we all had in some bar afterwards. I love this photo so have put it here for at least my own posterity! Unfortunately they can’t be with me this time, but they’ll be tracking me (or watching Eliud Kipchoge on TV anyway, hopefully breaking the world record, as is rumoured….). I am so thankful for all the support and cheers that I’ve got along the journey from various other people too.

Wish me luck, as I badly need it, and see you on the other side……….

In some basement bar in Manhattan, post race of course (!) 3rd November 2019.

The one and only Great North Run 2022

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The masses gather for as far as the eye can see at the start of the 41st Great North Run…

This is the DAY. This morning is THE Great North Run. As I write this I’m (literally) sat on the starting line, having arrived very early with over an hour to go, and am beyond excitement, anticipation, joy, appreciation, and also remembrance. 

Excitement that I am taking part in the 41st Great North Run in the first place. The journey home from Newcastle to South Shields, the place of my upbringing and all of my formative years. And I’ll tell you how excited this gets me. On my way up here first thing this morning from South Shields (an approximately 13.1 mile journey by Metro train, as it is a ‘point to point’ course) I stood in the queue for a ticket along with many other runners, and when I got to press the buttons on the machine I just clicked ‘return journey’ – it had somehow bypassed my befuddled braincells that I would be heading back under my own steam!!

Anticipation for the unbridled rush of emotions that this event always brings. It is a run through the places of my life, and all of my family’s lives. Every year that I have taken part (I think this is my 8th one now, but it might be 7, as I said, I’m excited 🙂 ) it doesn’t take long for me to get a total head rush. I have to bring myself out of it every time or I would literally have to stop and be properly overcome. It is generally about mile 1 when it happens, and you go though the tunnels before Tyne Bridge. There will be choruses of “oggy oggy oggy…..” and it overwhelms me every time. It actually contributes to my heart rate going through the roof, and me running too fast at the start. Happens every time and will probably happen today too. Just can’t help myself!

Joy and happiness to be together as part of the weekend with old friends, some who put me up last night (thanks Kate and Mark!) and others whom I met yesterday (fab to see you as always JB and Janine – it’s becoming a ritual 🙂 ). Joy also to be able to see the places and things that did indeed shape who I am. The beach at South Shields, the streets where I spent time with my grandparents when I was a kid, the baths where I learnt to swim, the technical college where my Dad used to teach pottery classes, my school, and the shops and sights and smells of the place of my birth are all, simply amazing. I am so grateful to be able to be in the midst of them once again. Yesterday I went down to the beach, as I always do when I am here, to just drink it all in. The word ‘sentimental’ doesn’t even begin to get close.

And my appreciation to all of those things and people extends very far and wide. To the founder of this race, the iconic and humble Sir Brendan Foster. He almost single handedly created an institution, from which so many people benefit. The charities and their beneficiaries who today alone will be some £25m better off because of it, the local communities and hospitality trade in the North East who have struggled over the last few years due to the pandemic.

And also to and on behalf of all the people of the area to whom this event alone brings in a lot of money in terms of hospitality revenues, they are all I know very grateful. There are 60,000 runners, mostly from out of the immediate area, and their families and friends, who are all spending money, on top of the half a million or so people who will be lining the route to cheer us on. Yes ‘us’, I’m one of the 60,000!

And so to remembrance. This weekend of course is very poignant for the whole country due to the death of the Queen. The event nearly didn’t take place because of it, and I’m just so glad that it is on. Many millions of people will be paying their respects over the next week or so, and this event will play its part in that. But remembrance for me, in the main, as it is every year, is for my Mam and Dad. The course will run past the street I grew up in, and where my Dad used to stand on the corner every year to cheer on the runners. He used to enthuse so much about it, and as I run past the corner of The Nook (about mile 10 1/2 on the course) it will bring every ounce of love and emotion out of my body. It’s probably even more special a place for me than the crematorium where their ashes are scattered, which incidentally we also run right past about a mile before that.

And so this week will end week 16 of the 18 weeks of the training schedule for Berlin. Another 50 or so miles – 57 I think including today. I won’t run hard, it wouldn’t be good. I am supposed (according to my religiously observed training schedule) to be doing a 10 mile run at a slow pace today. I won’t be able to run slow either, but hopefully I can just pace it well and come out at the end without injury. That’s really the most important thing. Actually writing that, I’m wrong, 100% wrong. The most important thing is all of the above things – to enjoy the very reasons why I am here, and why I will ALWAYS be here.

Come what may, this is the event of my life. The time, the weather, how quick or slow I run, anything and everything else in fact, don’t matter. This is more than special, and what I look forward to all year. This, is THE Great North Run 🙂

And it’s all done! This was shortly after the finish, and a 1:43 run, so not too fast, and not too slow either 🙂

If this helps just one person then it is worth it….

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This is an almost impossible post to write, and one I probably shouldn’t even attempt. As I start it now, I am envisaging that by the time (or possibly well before) I finish it, it will be consigned to the delete bin. But I’m writing it not for me, but maybe for just one other person reading this, almost certainly that I will never know about. Here’s why:

Yesterday I went for a colonoscopy. To detect for bowel cancer. It was horrible, and frankly traumatic, but thankfully they didn’t detect any cancer. Now I might well get knocked down by a bus on my way home this evening, or die later this month from something else unknown at this point in time. After all, we are all going to die at some point. But, for this week or this month and hopefully a few years still, bowel cancer can fuck right off. I make no apologies at all for the language.

Cancer killed both my parents before their time was (or should have been) up. And it was bowel cancer that got my Mam. She was in her 50s at the time (when she got the bowel cancer, although she died a few years later from secondary cancer), and that is why it is so hard, and painful, and still (she died 22 years ago now) so very raw.

Bowel cancer is the 3rd most prevalent cancer in men, 4th in women, and about 1 person in 20 will get it in their lifetime. Caught early, you have an 84% chance of living for 10 years. Caught late, then 47% of people will die within a year or so. Shocking, appalling, and very sad. But bowel cancer is treatable, and you can if you are lucky carry on a normal life.

So why the story? Well, about a month or so ago, I started having some (actually quite a bit) rectal bleeding (I told you this was a hard post to write, but there’s no way of dressing this up really). Also I had a bit of bloating and some uncomfortable feelings ‘down there’. Now haemorrhoids cause blood, but this to me didn’t feel like that (as I’ve had piles before).

Now I’m a typical bloke I guess, and I said to myself that I should get checked out. But I was busy at work, and trying to sort my house out, and maybe the cat needed feeding too. There’s always an easy excuse for not ‘bothering’ your GP. There has after all been a big strain on the NHS for way too long now, and other people are (definitely) more important than me. Bollocks.

But eventually, a few weeks later, I picked up the phone to my GP, and the process of getting checked out started.

The NHS were absolutely magnificent from start to finish. No judgement, no fuss, no stress. Just efficiency, brilliance, compassion. They were focussed on me from start to finish. I was I should say fortunate in being fast tracked, due to family history, and also due to this having also happened to me (rectal bleeding and a resultant anal fissure) about 7 years ago. 

The week of the procedure isn’t pleasant, I can tell you. You have five days of a (very) low fibre diet, which is harder than it sounds (for me anyway), as the list of prohibited substances is massive (fruit, vegetables, red meat, brown bread, cereal, nuts, crisps, chips….the list goes on). Then you have a day of fasting, whilst you drink two lots of bowel emptying laxative. You can’t even leave the house, as you will go to the loo about 47 times in this 24 hour period, and probably almost run out of toilet rolls like I did.

Then there’s the anxiety. I did ask when they phoned me to make the final preparations for the colonoscopy, as to how soon they would give me the results. They told me that they would know there and then if there was ‘an issue’, and then at that time they would take a biopsy which would need to be evaluated. Any nasty looking polyps would be removed at the time if possible.

So you basically go into this knowing it is very binary. You’re either clear, or you’re not. No pressure! When they took my blood pressure in the ante room before the procedure the top reading was above 140, and whilst this isn’t exactly life threatening, mine is never above 120, other than after/during exercise. I test it regularly at home, an old habit from mountain/high altitude training. I was a bit of a basket case really. 

You also are given the choice for the procedure of sedation, in which case you need someone to look after you for 24 hours, or gas & air (Entonox). As I live on my own and have no family anywhere near I didn’t have a choice but to go for the gas and air. I say this as a bit of a wimp when it comes to pain! 

During the procedure they basically inflate the bowel with air all the way around to where your appendix is/was, and the combined camera/polyp removing tube does the rest. It’s a bit painful at times, and I was sucking on the gas and air like some gasping smoker who’d been given their last ever cigarette to make the most of. You’re in the theatre for about an hour all told, so let’s call it ‘thorough’.

I’ll dwell no more on the gory bits. Suffice to say that as they finished and the consultant told me that I was ‘clear’, I got very emotional. Then when I was taken into the ‘recovery’ room and given a cup of tea and a biscuit (I had sugar in my tea, which normally would be anathema to me, but I just needed anything I could get at that point) I got very emotional too. It was a release, a relief. I spoke with two of the most wonderful nurses on this planet, one called Vickie, and the other Sheree. They looked after me like I was the most important and precariously poised patient on the planet. I spoke with Sheree about how her Mum had died from cancer too. Relating to other people’s sad experiences really brings home just how prevalent this disease really is.

It makes it all so incredibly real too when you are sitting there imagining if the result had gone the other way. But with bowel cancer you don’t know unless you get tested. The call it ‘the silent killer’, as there are generally no symptoms at all.

After I got home I was on the phone to a very good friend of mine. I told him about my procedure. He mentioned that he’d had a test through the post a little while ago, but hadn’t done it. A ‘stool test’ they call them, and I think that now everyone over the age of 55 should get them. I told him to do it, straight away, and I hope he has done so. I’m making a note now to call him again and nag him to do so.

So, I am one of the lucky ones, so far. I feel very grateful to have all that I have in life. Cancer can hit you at any time, and so of course can many other illnesses and diseases. Listen to your body, and if you feel there is something wrong, then call your GP, please! I’m not preaching, I’m just talking as someone who feels grateful and lucky. You get one life. Live it, but also look after it.

Love to all.

So will I be there or not???

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If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in all of my 58 years that is not to take anything for granted. Or anyone for that matter, probably even more importantly. And so also liking to be prepared (whenever I can be) I took the opportunity many months back when booking for Berlin to also book the travel over there. 

The starting line for Berlin

The package I bought to Berlin (through an International Tour Operator, practically the only way to get in and guarantee doing so) covers the hotel and the event only, so I had to make sure I got flights to coincide. So not wanting to end up being frazzled with the stress, hassle and seemingly-impossible-to-fathom baggage allowances of the budget airlines, I went for British Airways. They are ‘reassuringly expensive’, especially when you treat yourself to Business Class for the return journey!

And so fast forward to the here and now, which is week 15 of the 18 week programme, and I am in the final throes (hopefully!) of my preparations for the event on the 25th of this month. And then I get an email from British Airways, which I very nearly didn’t open as I thought it was just a general mailer. It said that due to the capacity problems at Heathrow that a number of flights had had to be cancelled, and that mine was one. They gave me a refund, thankfully, but that isn’t the issue. The issue quickly became how to find another flight!

After an extensive search, it quickly became clear that two things were true. Firstly I wasn’t going to be able to get a BA flight out of practically anywhere to Berlin. Boo boo I hear you say. But worse, every budget airline seemed to be booked too, or just not to coincide with the trip as they had multiple connections and took about 20 hours to get there, via strange and far flung places. Berlin is no doubt a popular destination (anyway) and with the marathon and also Oktoberfest in Munich seemingly taking most of the airlines’ capacity for late September, I was almost fearing I would have to drive, which from the Lake District would no doubt take two days! 

Cut a long story short I did eventually find a flight with EasyJet. It have to go to Scotland to get it, but at least it gets me there. Cost me more than BA too in the end, but by that time I didn’t care, I was glad to get a flight at all. Hopefully they don’t cancel on me too, as we are now a matter of 22 days away!!

So onto the running then. Well this week should be the highest weekly mileage of them all (58), before tapering starts. Tomorrow should be a 16 miler following a number of long runs (two 12s at pace so far for example). However my running hasn’t been good, or my heart rate hasn’t. The last two runs have seen a significantly elevated heart rate of over 13bpm more than equivalent runs the week before. Runs which should be easy have been at threshold, and that is counterproductive. A friend noticed and put onto my Strava feed “maybe you should take a rest”. Resting is however the last thing the training programme demands at this critical stage. 

So we will see. I’ll see how the day goes (more of that for another reason in another post…..) and then see what I can do tomorrow. 

My various social media feeds meanwhile fill with lots of tantalising things about the Berlin Marathon. Everyone is in the same boat as far as final running and travel preparations, getting ready for the expo, making plans for final kit. I went and bought myself a new running vest (temperatures look warm for the day as it stands), new shorts, a flipbelt and a bunch of fancy (read expensive!) gels this week – why not!!

Amongst other things this last week or so I also watched with significant and excited interest the live stream of the UTMB, the world’s most prestigious ultramarathon. It is over 170km long and has over 33,000 feet of climbing. And no, I’ll never ever be worthy of even dreaming about taking part! The race was won in a staggering 19 hours and 49 minutes, by the greatest endurance athlete of all time, Kilian Jornet. One of the athletes that I follow very closely on You Tube, Ben Parkes, himself a 2:25 marathoner and very experienced ultramarathoner too, was hoping with great excitement to finish his very first UTMB in around 40 hours, but had a bad fall and hurt his knee in the first 20 miles and had to withdraw. He was so upset after literally years of preparation and no doubt vast expense. Bummer!

The UTMB in Chamonix – one of my favourite places on the planet to!

I think I ran over 200 miles in August alone. If I can just get through the last few weeks and also have no more travel or other disruptions, then fingers crossed I’ll be at least on the starting line. 

But take nothing, anything, for granted. Just ask Ben Parkes! More next week, including hopefully of course, the Great North Run! 8 exciting days to go…….