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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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…….

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 🙂

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.

Greetings – after a long time away from doing this, I left one of my last blog posts before this with the following quote: “20 years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
– Mark Twain

That was in January 2020 and of course an awful lot of things have happened to the world since then. An aborted trip to Nepal was the last ‘disappointment’ personally, and in line with the above quote it still smarts a bit, but I shouldn’t (and won’t) dwell on that one bit. It also got ‘replaced’ that same summer with a great adventure on the Coast to Coast walk, which I loved and would love to actually do again sometime. But apart from one (wonderful and so enjoyable) trip skiing last month, I literally haven’t travelled anywhere since then, as of course has been the case for most people.

Life is of course what you make of it from one day to the next, and so looking over your shoulder has never been my thing. What matters is what you make of the cards that you have in your hand, at any time. Sometimes they are good ones, and sometimes they aren’t.

You only have to look at the (sub)title of my blog to know my philosophy on life. And I now speak (some two years after that last mission statement) in a somewhat different place for several reasons. The most fundamental of these are that in only 32 days time I will retire from work, maybe forever (!). That final decision will ultimately be made by the passage of time and events, but for now it will take the form of a break at least. I also find myself living, very fortunately, in the place of my childhood (and indeed lifelong) dreams, the Lake District, of which more in a later blog post. Suffice to say that in terms of fulfilling ambitions it is up there with the very best of them.

I’ve decided to start up my blog again now for several reasons. One, I love doing it, and over the last 10 or more years it has seen me in places and adventures that I couldn’t have even imagined or written the script for. Secondly it becomes for me both prophetic and self-fulfilling. Thirdly I’m about to (per the above!) about to have a lot more time on my hands. And fourthly (and ultimately now for me most importantly), I’m about to embark on some more adventures!

The first (not adventure but challenge) thing I have booked is the Berlin Marathon later this year. I want to say so much more about this, and so will do so in a subsequent blog post, but for now I know that I can’t wait to do it, and hope moreover that my body allows me to do so. I need to get properly fit to do that, and I know am not in the best shape I can be right now.

Why Berlin? Well, amongst other things it is such an incredible city, with the history of Brandenburg, the Prussian Empire, the Weimar Republic, The fall of World War 2, and of course the Wall and the Cold War, to name but a few. It also happens to be one of the six World Marathon majors, and is a flat course where Eliot Kipchoge set the (still current) world record. So if it is good enough for him…….. 😃.

The marathon is in September, two weeks after my favourite running event of them all, the Great North Run. I’ve paid for a place through an international travel operator, who buy and sell places on at a premium, so at least I know I’m in, if at a price. And already, even if this decision was taken only last week, I am bursting with excitement at the thought of just being on the starting line, and running through the Brandenburg Gate at the end. There are surely not many places of such combined majestic prominence and historical significance than that. I also know that the operator, Sports Tours International, who I used for my one and only marathon to date (New York in 2019) are a good company to go with.

I know from experience just how hard marathon training is. It’s simply a massive commitment in terms of time, effort, money and the impact on other things you might want to do. But I don’t want that disappointment of never having tried. My bowlines are thrown off, and safe harbors are not for me. Unfurl those sails and explore, that’s where I most surely am right now. 

More soon……… 😊

Today is 28th July and it consisted of an 11 mile run this morning in what started out as pretty wet conditions and a temperature of 8 degrees, although it never felt that cold. To be fair, I could be running in -3 degrees or + 35 degrees and I may not notice the difference. Chamonix is that beautiful, that dramatic, that amazing.

So here we are in the Alps, or more particularly Chamonix, one of my favourite places on planet earth. And I’ve, or we’ve (Melanie and I), just completed week two of our New York Marathon training. What a place to do it!

The week has consisted of 5 runs, as is the case of every week in the training programme. Tuesday was 5 miles, with 3 miles @ 8:15 pace. Wednesday was 5 miles at marathon pace, which for me is around 9 minutes a mile ( we are aiming all being well to finish in a time of approximately 3 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds!).

Mentioning temperature above, this last week (prior to arriving in Chamonix) has been a real challenge as far as weather is concerned. The records will show that the UK recorded its all time highest temperature of Thursday, of 38.7 degrees, which in my book is very much not very conducive to any sort of running. Much less when on this day you’ve been at a Strategy Day from work in a hotel without air conditioning! Thus all of the runs have taken place at around 6 am in the morning, a time not usually known to me, least of all me being out pounding the pavements.

So having arrived on Saturday morning in Chamonix, after a very early start, it was almost straight out to complete the week’s running. Chamonix sits at 1,030m ( or 3,400 feet) above sea level, so whilst this isn’t exactly high altitude, it does take a day or so to adjust to very slightly thinner air.

This also being (obviously!) very much a mountain resort, each side of the valley slopes extremely steeply, and so there is fairly limited scope for running, unless you are a trail runner, in which case this is your nirvana! The road up and down the valley connecting the various ski areas slopes not too steeply though, and we discovered that running by the river is both stunningly beautiful, and also not too taxing. Frankly, despite the slight inclines, if you can’t run here and enjoy it you really should give up – consider that a week ago I was running on the outskirts of Slough!!

So the week finished with the earlier mentioned 11 mile run on a slightly wet start to the day, but the weather was otherwise quite cool and perfectly suited to what we were doing. I absolutely loved it, and just wish I could run here every day, or just live here in fact. I could never ever tire of this scenery, it is mesmerising.

Week two then finished with a total exactly on schedule with 31 miles completed for the week. That’s a new weekly high for me – and so far so good. Next week ramps up to 34 miles with a half marathon to finish on the Sunday, but every one of those runs will also be in Chamonix, so I have no doubt that every one will be cherished and the distance won’t be a problem. The only problem will be having to leave at the end of it all!

Bring on week 3…….