Fear : Running 100 miles

A cop out this week on the song.  I have said that I would always post something with a nautical theme, but having just run a hundred miles for the first time I thought something running related would be more "on message" this week. Compared to songs about swimming there are so few songs about running.  Strange, as both words/actions are great metaphors for our life - well, they are for me, maybe not for you with your big houses, fancy gadgets, manicured lawns and general well being.  There's Springsteen's "Born to Run": my colleague, Alex has reminded me of Velvet Underground's "Run, Run, Run" - not the most accessible of their tracks and there is of course the safe, middle of the road choice of Snow Patrol's "Run" which I like for lots of reasons, one of which is that I can make a passable attempt at it on the guitar. Sadly, it has no link to the kind of running that I am about to talk about. Here it is:

In this blog I don't want to pontificate too much on cod psychology, or move into clichés about stuff I know very little about, but I fancy having a stab at "fear".

I am dominated by fear.  Always have been.  I sometimes wonder if I'd get up in the morning were I not motivated by fear of bed sores.  That weak joke has an underlying seriousness to it.  That kind of fear makes me do something, but for too long fear made me inert.  It stopped me from doing stuff.  The usual nonsense of "what will people think if I do this...", "It might make me uncomfortable" etc., etc.. Of course the crippling fear that created a prison was fear of addressing addiction.  The concept of life without booze was so far off the scale of consciousness that it it didn't matter where it took me, or how low I felt, I was too terrified to address it.  Then on November 22nd 2000, a door briefly opened and terrified as I was I crept through it into another room.  In the new room there was a bit more light (I'll be honest - it wasn't blinding) and I had a lot less restrictions, and the fear I had felt about giving up what I genuinely believed was the essence that defined me, left me.  A master of understatement would describe it as a good move..

But don't get me wrong.  Fear has never left me and it remains my constant partner.  We seem to be on a road trip together with Fear sitting right up front with me in the truck fiddling with the radio stations, constantly distracting me and trying to stop me going to the destinations I might enjoy.

The good thing is I have sometimes learnt to ignore Fear.  I can now stop listening and give something a bash despite Fear's constant internal chatter.

Every stage of the journey to endurance events has been a confrontation with something that scares me.  That first marathon in 2001, my first triathlon, my first Olympic Distance tri, my first Ironman and so on and so on have all caused me sleepless nights.  I have had stress dreams and psychosomatic pains in my legs prior to events.  The dreams are always to do with me being late to the start, or forgetting my swimming kit, or my trainers.  All of it adds to my fear.   I become distant and appear preoccupied before a "biggie".  But I now press ahead with the journey. That bloke Webb, who was first to swim the Channel said "Nothing great is ever easy." He was right about that.

That first triathlon I mentioned is a case in point.  I was rigid with fear before it.  But I suspected this "triathlon" thing might have some benefit.  I was/am so incompetent that my bike fell off the back of the car on the way to the triathlon.  My wheel was buckled, and I could so easily have turned around and come home.  I really wanted to.  But I went up to Bedford, completed the tri, was heavily patronised and was out of my depth.  But I still did it and was so proud of myself.

So that has subsequently become my modus operandi.  Are you scared to try something that you suspect may have some benefit? See if the door is slightly ajar and tip toe through it.  You never know what may happen, but it may well  be better than what you had before. I am lucky enough to know a guy called Dan Earthquake ("Dan" is obviously not his real name).  He made one of the epic Channel crossings of 2013.  22 hours in the sea.  I was with him  a few weeks before he set off.  His philosophy was so spot on.  "Well, Paul, " he said, "I don't mind what happens, but I do know that it will be adventure."   http://coldwaterculture.blogspot.co.uk/

Dan is right.  That attitude of "just give it a try" will lead to all sorts of adventures and challenges.  It can broaden your horizon of experience. You learn a little bit more about yourself, too.  This weekend I ran 100 miles in an event called the Thames Path 100. (NB This event sells out.  Why, oh why, oh why?)  I have never done that before.  I was terrified about the concept.  I'm slow and I knew it would be torturous.  But I do now have a new mantra of "well, give it a try, no one's going to die" and then I can see where it leads, so I went for it.  I really wanted to test my mental capacity for continuing when I was shot to pieces.  I think that this will stand me in good stead for the Channel, when so often I am told that it is people's minds, not bodies, that give up.  So, on Saturday I started off from Richmond Town Hall at 10am and trotted along the banks of the Thames for 26 hours until I reached Oxford.  100 miles in one go...

The day that I spent running was a constant mental battle.  On one hand was the fear in my mind telling me again and again "it's too far, it's too far" and on the other hand there was the logical regulation system saying, "it's okay.  You're in good shape.  Nothing bad is happening.  Keep going." (This is sounding like a Thomas the Tank Engine story.) Fortunately, my regulation system won, and at Midday on Saturday I arrived at the finish.  Bloody amazing feeling.

                                                          Quite possibly happy to finish?

When I do an event I subsequently blank out the pain and give myself images that make me think it wasn't too bad.  This bastard joke my brain plays then makes me book some other stupid event. But on Saturday/Sunday I was privileged to run through the night, which was other worldly and quite spiritual and I was then witness to the most beautiful sunrise.  I have got to know a new happiness.

                                           5.30am Sunday 4th May 2014 Thames Path 100

Willpower

Song for the week is a bit like me: it's pretty old and extremely unfashionable, and check out his voice - definitely effeminate.  However, it is metaphorical and doesn't really appear to be what it is on the surface.  This second sentence does not apply to me.....I once met Al Stewart and did that thing when because I had no reference to him apart from songs I couldn't think of anything to say.  I think I managed, "You write songs" and he said "Yes", which was kind as he probably didn't need me to tell him what he did. I need to polish up my small talk.

      Dark and the Rolling Sea - Al Stewart (now I see why my dad used to moan about long hair.                                                                       It's just not right...)

It's been an early Saturday morning, same as always.  I went down to the local lake at Welwyn which has just opened up for swimming.  I had some guys from a well known news agency photographing a filming me.  They want to chart my progress and put a multi media presentation together of the whole event.  Today was to get to meet me and then test out some of their equipment.

It all got off to a poor start. We arrived at 6.30am on a dark, drizzly morning to find that I wasn't allowed to swim without a wetsuit. It's not the worst news I have ever had, but part of the training for the Channel is about acclimatising to cold water.  The fact that I may well use a wetsuit for the Arch to Arc means that I wasn't too bothered, but I prefer the freedom and masochism of natural swimming. Nothing breathes more life into the body than a cold water swim. I even have a weird affection for the pneumatic grip of the shivers that can loosen your fillings. Anyway, the guys were able to film and get me to do swimmy things which I wouldn't have been able to do had I been shivering my nether regions off in the cold.  Poor old Dave D who had come for one of his stupid fast swims hadn't got his suit and just hung around with the guys, whilst what should have been an hour long swim turned into a two hour Vogue wetsuit shoot (that is obviously not true).

Dave Dawson, High Priest of Umbrellas, patiently waits whilst Neil and Lee take pictures and I take pictures of them. I am in the lake at this moment.

But talking of masochism I guess it might be assumed that there is a darker side of my psyche that allows me to push myself to levels of pain that would appear to be self harming.  I understand that, apart from the fact that I am terrified of pain and in doing all these events do my damnedest to avoid hurting.  Sure, I go to some pretty dark places mentally, but the overall sensation of completing a big event is a sense of achievement and satisfaction that I find hard to describe.  And so, junky that I am, I keep going. I think I understand why I can keep going.

When I used to drink so destructively, I thought I was weak.  My friends and family reinforced this by saying stuff like "use your willpower - just stop after a couple", or "your problem is you have no willpower".  Both viewpoints, helpful as they were meant to be, were missing the reality of a life threatening situation.  Firstly, no amount of willpower will help a person deal with addiction. The less travelled road to recovery is down a completely different path where willpower serves no purpose. No human power can match up to an addiction.  Secondly, and here is the paradox of addiction, it was only when I got sober and talked to some very knowledgeable people that I discovered that part of my problem was that I had willpower in spades.  It takes a very determined, very committed person to stand at a bar at lunchtime and order a pint of strong lager when he is still reeling, suffering and nauseous from the night before.  But I could do that day after day after day.  Now that is willpower!

Nowadays I don't do that.  But it became part of my life to use that tremendous capacity, that strength of will,  to keep going in a more constructive, more satisfying way.  So now, when I am in those dark places 60 miles into a 78 mile run,  suffering, reeling I tap into that willpower.  I can take the suffering because the end game is worth it.  And I remind myself every single day of my life that no matter how hard an event is, it is nowhere near as hard as it was when I stood at those endless bars day after day exercising my willpower and sinking from sight.

Mallorca 2 Long Distance Swim Training and Jellyfish

I have had this idea.  I like to post my nautical based song once(ish) a week but I suspect that by the time anyone has read the meandering introduction to the song their tea will be ready and they will never have time to listen to it.  So my suggestion is that I get the song intro over with early in the post and then you can listen to the song whilst reading the rest of the post.

With that in mind I'm going for something a bit lateral, but a top quality song, should you be a middle aged man with an interest in indie music.  There, who said I don't believe in inclusion.  Great song by the Black Keys - "Little Black Submarines" - get it?: 

I've just had a week away in Mallorca on a Swim Trek Long Distance Training Camp.  Notice I use the word "camp" as in "boot camp" and not as in my mannerisms.  This is because too many people still refer to my Mallorcan "holiday". Let's get this straight, there was nothing remotely holidayish about this and it was seriously hard work.

I was with a group of 16 swimmers, almost all with a strong background in swimming.  There were people like me - Channel aspirants, as well as a few who had already soloed and also some strong long distance swimmers who just liked, well, swimming long distances.

The aim of the week was to build up confidence and stamina in cold water with a view to many of us completing a 6 hour sea swim on water below 16 degrees.  We were in luck (I use this word ironically, okay) the water was not much above 14 degrees.  To normal people that is the same as a really cold bath.  You know, the sort of bath you'd jump out of shouting "fuck, fuck, fuck" before turning on a scalding tap for ten minutes to guarantee a habitable temperature.

The first day was a 1 and 2 hour swim and I remember thinking I might die of exposure in the first hour. But, as is the way perseverance led to the temperature becoming acceptable. After getting out from both these swims we were all shivering and in some distress.  At that point the thought of completing a 6 hour swim in these conditions seemed beyond the realms of possibility.The following day was a 2 and 3 hour swim and the discomfort and distress was the same.  In the morning two hour swim I remember after 30 minutes that my feet had become numb and thinking that my body would shut down way before the two hours was up.  And yet, and this is where I become amazed by what our bodies are capable of: my internal heating systems continued to adapt to the cold and I finished the day feeling warmer than when I had started.  The body seems to adjust to its environment if you are prepared to let it and can mentally stand the initial shock of a hostile environment.  The natural response is to get out, but if you shut your mind down and persevere your body's thermostat works in your favour.  It is a sensitive organism too.  I was amazed by how my skin could sniff out warm currents and as we swam around the bays of Mallorca we got to know the warm areas and also the horrible flows of cold current that would chill us to the bone.

Our third day was a 6 hour swim.  At breakfast that morning we were all very quiet.  You could sense the nerves and anticipation. We were like a squadron of pilots who had flown one mission too many. But everyone took on this challenge and everyone who set out to complete it did so.  We were dropped off in a bay with double beaches and for 6 hours we just looped around and around.  I have no idea what the holidaymakers on the sands made of us.  Swimming for half an hour would look odd, but 6 hours must have seemed surreal.  We were good swimmers and I guess they thought we must be some troop of weird athletes out for the day. Each circuit was maybe 2k and afterwards we could all discuss every feature of the sea bottom, right down to the shiny tent peg near the large chain (don't worry, you had to be there).

Looking back, now, it was such a huge achievement for us all, but by then we were so focused and just got it done.  6 hours swimming is about 18k for me - (about 40 k for my mentor Dave, who is far too fast and I will write more about over the next weeks.)  That is by anyone's standards a long swim.  It was a step into the unknown for me, but my body coped well and it has given me huge confidence.

There was one more hurdle for us and it came in an unexpected form.  The following day kicked off with a trip on the ribs to a new cove for a 2 hour recovery swim (yeah, right, "recovery" swim?  Recovery is about sleeping in and shovelling loads of grub down me while I read a book).  Off the boat we got and into the water.  I remember feeling so strong and euphoric as I ploughed through the water. Then it happened: I felt like I'd been whipped across the face. I was confused thinking that I had swum into metal wire or something similar.  Being light on self preservation I continued and nearly jumped out of the water as something electrocuted my thigh.  As I write I still have a large angry mark from that, almost two weeks later on.  We had swum into a  swarm of jellyfish.  Now check this out for clever thinking, we all turned back to the boat, finished our circuit and the swam another circuit and, guess what, got stung again.  Brilliant!

That was enough to get 14 of the 16 of us back on the boat and I was happy to stay.  But it was "King of the Channel" Kevin Murphy who pricked my conscience and suggested that swimming near jellyfish was good training for swimming the Channel.  I am a very simple, quite stupid person - indeed someone who would probably by out-intellectualised by the said jellyfish, so I accepted this piece of advice and got back in and began to swim.  That swim became one of the most tense hours of my life.  If there had been an underwater tobacconist I would have popped in for 20 B&H. My ensuing hyper vigilance meant that I escaped any more stings but I have now broken my jelly fish virginity.  Hmmm, I mean getting stung by one and not having carnal knowledge of them.

But you have to hand it to jellyfish, they really know how to freak out their target market.  I know they can't speak or do very much for themselves, but to an over active imagination like mine they are like alien life forces that glide through the ocean zapping unsuspecting humans.  I can't help thinking that they know exactly what they are doing and even have a whole design team behind them that make them look sinister and silent.  They must be pissing themselves laughing at the effect they have on us back in Jellyfish Towers.

                                    A truly talented group of people. Swim Trek 2014

Jellyfish included, the whole week has done me a huge amount of good.  Ten years ago I could only swim an approximation of breaststroke.  I had never been taught to swim and learning front crawl has been my only conscious attempt to learn something new as an adult (apart from guitar and I am really crap at that).  I have come on well, but without a swim background I have had no ability to reference myself as a swimmer.  This week has allowed me to see that I am not the best (that is reserved for people like Dave), but I am a decent swimmer and I do have a chance at swimming the Channel.  It's gone from being a long shot to a medium shot.  My biggest boost was on the last day when I was assessed by Kevin Murphy, swimmer of the Channel 34 times and a living legend. His summary has done more to buoy me up than anything else to date.  Thanks Kevin, you don't know how much that means to me.

                                            Kevin Murphy - King of the Channel 

But only time will tell......

Mallorca

A quick one today on the old blog.  I'm off to Mallorca tomorrow for a weeks long distant swimming coaching with Swim Trek. Well I say tomorrow, but only just.  I have to get up at 3.30am to catch a 6.00am flight, so with getting all my cosmetics through customs I need to allow plenty of time.

I'm a bit nervous too.  I am one of those crushingly insecure people who assumes that everyone is much better than them, so I am assuming that all the people there will be insanely good swimmers for whom crossing the Channel will be like doing 60 lengths in the public baths.  I have visions of long swims and all these shit hot people having to wait around the corners of coves, or whatever you get in Mallorca, for weak boy to catch up.  Just my default setting.

One of the guys who is training us is called Kevin Murphy and he has swam the Channel 34 times.  I bet I can teach him a thing or two.....When he gives advice I must remember to talk over him using my experience to illustrate why I disagree.  See how quickly I can become the most hated member of the swimming group.

The water temperature out there is not so high.  I have heard it's 13 or 14 degrees.  One of the aims of the week is to get a 6 hour sea swim in.  This is a pre-requisite of swimming the Channel. No boat will take me over unless I have done this, so it will build my confidence if I can do this without a wetsuit, even though I intend to swim the Channel wearing a wetsuit (and lipstick).

NO doubt you will be glued to your seats awaiting my update next week, but in the meantime it's time for the Friday swim song.  I'm still gutted about that Eels song that has been purged from the internet.

This week's little bit of naughtiness is very apt.  Frightened Rabbit are a Scottish Indie band that people my age haven't heard of, but should have done as this music will not threaten them. The song is Swim Until you Can't See Land. That's a tip I need to follow in September.

So for your delectation; Frightened Rabbit

Friday Song

Now I have finally launched my Justgiving page and with it, this Blog I thought I'd better make it a bit more broad church and interactive.  Don't worry all you endurance triathletes out there looking at my training schedules, there will be plenty of that stuff as time goes on, but let's spare some time for the aesthetics of life.

One of the things that I really love is music.  Always have and I love live music.  Strangely, I never listen to it when I'm training.  The kind of Indie stuff I prefer is all minor chords and very melancholic, so more likely to make me give up than inspire me to keep going.  If I put anything upbeat on the ipod it just reinforces what a plodder I am and also has a demotivating effect.

No, for me, it is just countless hours stuck in my own head: a weird and scary place to be - a bit like being in a music fight between The Fall and the Sisters of Mercy, with Leonard Cohen as referee - but slightly darker.  Occasionally songs drift into my consciousness, and I want had 6 hours of an Ironman bike leg with an obscure Thompson Twins track looping around my brain again and again and again.  I wouldn't have minded but it wasn't even one of the Thompson Twins' best tracks (should there be such a thing). "You Take me up" for the one person out there who might be wondering what it was.

Anyway, I digress.  What I am getting on to say is that I find music inspiring and great fun.  Last year when I was training for the Relay Channel Swim I made a playlist of all tracks that had a nautical theme and would play it on my trips to Dover and the Solent.  I tried to introduce it as a once a week Facebook item for our Aspire Channel swim, but I think staff just thought I was a bit odd and it didn't take off.  But this is my very, very own Blog, so I can introduce just what the hell I like.  So each week I'll introduce a song that has some swimming/nautical element.  If I have to I may have to do the odd running/cycling/Rocky style song.  At no point will I have Keep on Running by the Spencer Davis Group, nor will I have Night Swimming by REM, perfect though they are for this theme.

First song up is as simple and wistful as they come.  "Swimming Lessons" by the Eels.  Obviously, the song has nothing to do with swimming really and is completely metaphorical.  The only link I can think of between the Eels and me is that the Mark Oliver Everett, who actually constitutes the Eels, smokes cigars.  I used to smoke them too, and by the time I stopped smoking in April 2001 I was smoking 3 packets of Hamlet a day.  15 sodding cigars every day, at a cost of £13, back then.  I had the breath of a dead dog, and looked pale and had a permanent sweaty sheen about me. So some things don't change, eh?  It was that ability to do extremes that I now apply to long distance sport.  I can't tell you how much willpower it takes to light up a cigar when your mouth is as dry as the bottom of a budgie cage.  Willpower is everything.  Don't let anyone tell you that addicts lack willpower - they have more in their little finger than you will have in a lifetime.

Sorry, back to the song.  Here it is...

And no, it isn't. For some reason every copy anywhere on the internet has been taken down.  Why, how mysterious?  Well, check it out on itunes or Spotify or whatever illegal mp3 you use.

Having waffled on I'll give you a short song that you won't know, but sums up the perfect end to a Channel Swim.  If I get to France I want Laura Marling on a cliff top, belting this little number out:

The Arch to Arc (1)

I've been prattling on to myself for a few weeks now without launching my Justgiving page or publicising this blog about what I am doing, so I think it is now time for me to at least give my take on the Arch to Arc and what it entails.

The Arch to Arc is probably the world's hardest triathlon and must be up there with the toughest organised endurance events in the world.  The challenger begins at Marble Arch and runs 87 miles down to Dover.  Within 48 hours of the beginning of the run, the challenger must then swim the English Channel, a distance of 22 miles.  On landing at Calais it is then the simple matter of a 180 mile cycle ride to the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.  Writing it down like that and having done a few big endurance events, it sounds manageable.  When I first heard about it my interest was captured by the big distances and the linking of capital cities.  An 87 mile run sounded a huge challenge, and 180 miles on the bike is nothing to be sniffed at.  We are talking double/triple Ironman distances and that is always something for the testosterone fuelled to get in a lather about.  Actually, the real challenge lies in the middle, in the dead ground; the real challenge is the Channel.  It is in the Channel where everyone fails...

The Arch to Arc has a very high failure rate because too many people look at it the way I did and sign up to do the event : they are blinded by distances and big numbers.  Being predominately triathletes the sport has a great deal of emphasis on running and cycling, with the swim section an irritating add precursor to the main event.  With the Arch to Arc this is all turned on its head.  Forget fancy numbers - the 22 miles of the Channel is what will stop me.

Having said that, the run is vitally important.  Running 87 miles is no mean feat and can seriously deplete an athlete.  Therefore, it's important to put enough training into the run to ensure that you are not so depleted by the distance that your Channel swim is derailed by fatigue/cramp/ general misery.

If you follow my training I am putting everything into swimming, but I am having the occasional long run.  As I get closer to the event I will need to create a balance between maintaining the importance of the swim, with ensuring that I have enough psychological mileage to not live in fear of the road to Dover.

As a footnote I had intended to put virtually no cycle training into my programme.  That all changed when I smashed up the car and found myself cycling the thirty miles into and back from work each day.  That worked out at 150 miles a week.  Now the wet, wet winter is receding it seems a no-brainer to bin the car and use my commute as part of my training.  Tomorrow I'm going to be running it, although doing that every day is a bit much.

If you want to find out more about the event itself click on the link below for all the information you might ever need about long distance stupidity:

http://www.enduroman.com/#/a2a-solo-single-relay/4566318165

Disguising Failure?

You know how you sometimes set out to do something and don't quite finish the job, so sort of pretend the unfinished job is actually the finished job, and "hey, didn't I do well" is how you sum up the sort-of-end result?

On Friday night a small group of us Arch 2 Arcers, Jo, Grantley, Neil, Dave set off from Marble Arch to head out to Dover.  One guy, Dave Kershaw wanted to run the whole 87 miles to Dover.  Me and my friend Rob ( a man I despise because of his natural ability to run short and long distances fast and with apparent ease.  I am doing all I can to undermine him, but he continues to be brilliant.  Even more annoyingly is the fact that he is a really nice guy and has supported me in everything I do. I am convinced he is patronising me, but that is more about my fucked up thinking that reality.)  Where was I? Oh yes, Rob and me had half a mind to go all the way to Dover, whereas the more sane A2A hopefuls had decided on stopping at Maidstone and then having a swim at Folkestone, as you do.

So off we trotted.  I managed to get us lost coming out of London and even the ultra nice Eddie Ette, our support was seeing his patience stretching.  This combined with a deliriously slow first 14 miles had everyone a little tense. I think we were too busy chatting and getting to know one another. Lots of stops in dangerous service stations in South London also slowed us down. Oh, and the mortally pissed guy who was so astonished by our running at 1am that he had to step out into a busy road to create a photo montage of us in our lycra and high-vis jackets.

Eventually we stepped into a steadier pace and experienced the privilege of a night run.  The roads quieten, all becomes still, and there is nothing to hear but the breathing of runners.  It feels like darkness will last forever, but time moves and suddenly you notice the light tingeing the inky sky.  Very quickly light returns and the body, deprived of sleep, receives a new boost.

We hit Maidstone, 41 miles in at about 6.30am.  At this point the sensible crew peeled off to do their swimming.  Dave wanted to pick the pace up and I knew Rob would feel comfortable with that.  It just left me, who was feeling the effects of 40 miles in my legs having to decide if I could maintain that pace.  It took me about, oh, I don't know, a third of a second to decide that I would go for a swim in Dover instead. So off I went with Grantley and Neil Kapoor (both scarily good runners) to Folkestone.  Very nice it was too.  30 minutes in the water, 90 minutes shaking with cold was a bracing end to a fairly intense piece of exercise by anyone's standard.

But as I sat in the train heading North to London I spotted parts of the run route down to Dover and my mind began to play its games with me.  Why did I stop?  I would be much more complete and satisfied as an athlete if I had run on.  And so on. When I saw the boys had reached Dover at 7 that evening I had that pang of jealousy - see text in parantheses about Rob, above....

This is the danger of endurance running.  You can always go further.  You can always finish.  I know that had I carried on I would have got further and further behind.  I would have caused a huge headache for Eddie in support as he would be split between us, and he was being employed as Dave's support.  It would have put pressure on Rob and Dave, because they would have been wondering if they should wait for me which would slow them down and detract from their enjoyment.  As it is, 3 days later I have trained constantly and easily with no aches and pains and I feel tremendously fit as opposed to bed ridden.

But still, but still, I feel like I failed.  I don't know.....time to call my therapist.