Well, it's been a while since I last update this blog....I've just about recovered from my last challenge for The Bobby Moore Fund for Cancer Research UK!!!
With today being the 19th Anniversary of his death, i got thinking about what else I can do to help raise money and support the work The BMF4CRUK do in raising awareness of bowel cancer. When I think back to my last challenge in 2010 I think I'll admit I was disappointed. As I've explained to friends today, the problem with me is I get a certain stubbornness about me when preparing for these challenges. So I lose myself in the training and preparations and forget to think about the marketing and getting the word out there. I could have raised so much more had I thought more about telling people about what I was going to be doing.
So, I'm in the early stages of planning my next event. 900 miles of cycling in 8 days....actually, make that 7 days. The plan? Well, as ever it involves the two grounds closest to my heart. I'll be cycling from Newcastle United's St James' Park to West Ham's Boleyn Ground.......via Lands End.
I'm aiming to raise £10k in the process and am looking to do this in the last week of September 2012.
As I say, it's early days. At the moment I'm on the hunt for backers.....it's going to personally cost me a fair bit financially as I never like to offset money raised into covering the cost of the event. So if there's anyone out there that wants to help me, hotels etc then please do not hesitate to contact me on 07798 853160 or info@jamiepenfold.com
In the meantime, can i point you in the direction of an inspirational little fella called Jonjo Heuerman who is currently walking between Wembley and West Ham's Boleyn Ground. He's only 9 years old. This is the second time he's done the walk and currently with this event he's raised £37k. He's such an inspiration and deserves everyone's support. You can find more info about his efforts here
Viva Bobby Moore!
Friday 24 February 2012
Thursday 23 September 2010
Photos from Day 3 (Lincoln to Upton park)
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| About as interesting as the scenery got between York and Royston |
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| Taking a breather in Royston |
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| Nearly there.... |
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There!! |
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The lovely Claudine who was a massive help with the challenge! |
Wednesday 22 September 2010
Day 3 - Lincoln to Upton Park (AKA - He's only guided me onto the North Circular!!)
It's safe to say that I was at my lowest point on Monday evening. Every part of me hurt. My head was mashed! I couldn't see how I could cycle the next day.
I woke up on Tuesday morning and felt dreadful. I had a sore throat, my eyes felt dry and my nose was blocked....and then I tried to get out of bed. I met my dad for breakfast and he immediately said "You don't look good."
Just before 7am I set off from the hotel. The cathedral looked amazing with a red sky behind it (shepherd's warning?). "This is fine. It's flat around these parts." I told myself as I set off. And then I hit a steep hill which lead out of Lincoln. The first stretch down to Sleaford was a slog. It was more or less a straight road along featureless countryside. Unfortunately, the stretch between Sleaford and Peterborough was exactly the same. The only feature of note along the way was seeing the massive XM607 Vulcan bomber outside RAF Waddington. This was the bomber which first bombed Stanley Airport in the Falklands War (I strongly recommend the book Vulcan 607 which gives a superb account of the bombing raid).
Thankfully I decided to ride with my iPod so I had a bit of noise distraction. Having some pacey dance music playing helped me keep my pace up. By the time I got to Peterborough I had loosened up, was moving a lot more freely and was keeping a nice pace. It was a bit hairy through Peterborough on the dual carriageways but thankfully I made it through to the other side and onto the minor road which runs parallel to the A1(M).
From this point, the journey was broken up into shorter sections between points. I was at Huntington and Godmanchester in no time at all and then onto Royston. Again, the countryside was largely featureless and flat. However, the closer to Royston I got, the more hills there were. And this was a welcome distraction and added a bit of variation to the monotony of the constant straight and flat roads.
A fish and chip lunch in Royston (where there was a heavy police presence owing to what appeared to be a ram-raid on a bank) was a welcome break. This was the 90 mile point of the day, and unlike yesterday, I felt fresh. I think the adrenaline was kicking in. After a half hour break 2 cyclists went past and appeared to be heading in my direction onto the A10. I changed the playlist on the iPod to something a bit more "cheesy" and hopped on the bike. I had a sneaking suspicion that as I had descended a long hill into Royston there might be a climb out of the town....but I wasn't expecting the hill I had to negotiate. Luckily, the 2 cyclists I saw go past earlier were ahead of me. It was like having pace setters and it helped pull me up to the summit.
Now I had the bit between my teeth and nothing was going to stop me. The A10 was busy and there were a lot of HGVs out. Throughout the planning of the route I had tried my best to avoid dual-carriageways however the A10 north of the village of Puckeridge was unavoidable. I decided the best option was to pedal as fast as I could and get off there as quickly as possible. I then turned off onto the old A10 and followed it to Ware in Hertfordshire. The ride was now becoming less of a struggle and slog and more of an enjoyable ride. I started to take note of what was around me, appreciating the weather and generally having fun. The route was no a good mixture of downhill sections and steeper uphill gradients. Approaching Wadesmill I started to descend a hill, got my head down and went for it. Hitting 40mph and sweeping around a few bends into the village, I was finally enjoying things.
Ware was the start of, what to me, was the beginning of the urban landscape that would eventually lead to London. It had the look and feel of London suburbia. It was stop start stop through traffic lights and junctions. A few more climbs up through Hoddesdon, Cheshunt and Waltham Cross and I was starting to feel the end in sight. I was about 15 miles away and close to a final rendez-vous with dad who arranged to meet me at Waltham Abbey.
The idea was to follow dad into London and to Upton Park. I set the sat nav up for him, and off dad went. This was the final push and I was like a man possessed. I felt sorry for dad because he was constantly driving off, pulling over, waiting for me and then driving off again. I was averaging 20+mph, pushing on and full of energy. And then coming over the crest of a hill, I caught my first glimpse of London. In the distance I could see the skyline of The City. I was there. I was so close.
Dad was patient waiting for me to catch up. As we approached a roundabout I could see the choice was go left and up a steep hill to Chingford or right to Walthamstow. When I was planning the route my preferred choice was Chingford as it look more direct and the roads looked friendlier. However, I saw the warning on the sign indicating a steep incline. I was hoping dad wouldn't indicate left. Nothing. And then as he got to the roundabout he indicated right to Walthamstow. "Yes!!" I accelerated and caught him up just after the roundabout and gave him the thumbs up.
"You ok?" I could see him mouth. "Perfect!!" was my reply.
And then it happened. Dad was relying on the sat nav. London has changed a lot since he moved to Newcastle from East Ham in 1972. The last time he was in the east end was 21 years earlier. So, with dad being a bit unfamiliar, he duly followed its every direction. I saw the sign ahead but thought, "Nah. He wouldn't" But he did. Onto the North Circular....in the rush hour! I white cycling shorts!!! It was probably no more than 1 mile but I have never been so scared. There were cars coming at me from all directions. I have never cycled so fast!! I could see an underpass coming up and no sign of dad! So I took the next exit and there he was at the roundabout waiting at the traffic lights. I knew where I was...Walthamstow Dog Track. From there it was easy, through "The Stow", Leyton and Stratford, tailing dad all the way. Every so often I'd give them thumbs up to say I was ok, which was misunderstood at one set of traffic lights when a passer by asked if he had nearly run me over and that I should "chin him".
At Stratford, I left dad. He followed the sat nav and I went on to see my nan's old flats...only to find that they've been knocked down which hit me hard. I had so many great memories of summers spent there when I was younger. And now it's gone!
Onto Romford Road, a wrong turn onto Upton Lane and a quick detour down some back streets onto Green Street and there it was. The roof of the West Stand at Upton Park. I was there. Do I sprint the last bit or not. I decided to savour it and coasted in. I was still unsure about what to expect. There had been no word from West Ham United. But at least dad would be there......
Wrong! No sign of dad. Claudine from Cancer Research UK was there and was a sight for sore eyes. Bottles of water, lucazade, nut bars, everything!!! I was gobsmacked. I had my own welcome party/cheerleader! And I felt really bad for being a bit "snappy" with Claudine on the phone last week when discussing the Great North Run. And then she hit me with the news I was waiting for. "I've spoken to security and they've decided to let you go into the ground by the pitch". I could have cried! But we had a problem...where the hell was dad??
15 minutes later I called him. "I'm on Green Street outside the front of the stadium". Um, no he wasn't. And there he was, walking in through the John Lyall Gates. But where was the car? I had forgotten that the last time Dad had been to Upton Park was 1989 and it was before the stadium had been rebuilt and there was nothing outside the ground other than a school and portakabin (the club shop). So he'd parked in a back street (after taking the wrong turn and deciding to have a look at the house he grew up in - I can forgive him for that).
We made our way into the West Stand and were escorted down the players tunnel and out to the pitch....I had done it. 140 miles and this was the most appropriate end of the 3 days, under the gaze of Bobby himself. Dad was in awe. He didn't recognise the ground. I crashed out on the club crest by the pitch. It was time to savour the moment. It was great. Photos taken we were shown around the dressing rooms and had a good chat with the security guard who was a complete gentleman, giving us facts about what happens on match day etc. I didn't want to leave.
Eventually we headed off, said goodbye to Claudine and headed back to the car. Truth be told, it hadn't sunk in. I had done it but I couldn't appreciate it. The bike was slung in the back of the car and I drove to our hotel near Stansted Airport (with a bit of a commentary from dad as we drove along Barking Road, "I saw Roy Orbison when that was a cinema. The Beatles were the support act" as we went past a Mecca Bingo hall).
And that was the 3 days. Plenty of ups and downs, fluctuations of emotions. Blood, sweat and tears. But I had done it, and it felt good.
I woke up on Tuesday morning and felt dreadful. I had a sore throat, my eyes felt dry and my nose was blocked....and then I tried to get out of bed. I met my dad for breakfast and he immediately said "You don't look good."
Just before 7am I set off from the hotel. The cathedral looked amazing with a red sky behind it (shepherd's warning?). "This is fine. It's flat around these parts." I told myself as I set off. And then I hit a steep hill which lead out of Lincoln. The first stretch down to Sleaford was a slog. It was more or less a straight road along featureless countryside. Unfortunately, the stretch between Sleaford and Peterborough was exactly the same. The only feature of note along the way was seeing the massive XM607 Vulcan bomber outside RAF Waddington. This was the bomber which first bombed Stanley Airport in the Falklands War (I strongly recommend the book Vulcan 607 which gives a superb account of the bombing raid).
Thankfully I decided to ride with my iPod so I had a bit of noise distraction. Having some pacey dance music playing helped me keep my pace up. By the time I got to Peterborough I had loosened up, was moving a lot more freely and was keeping a nice pace. It was a bit hairy through Peterborough on the dual carriageways but thankfully I made it through to the other side and onto the minor road which runs parallel to the A1(M).
From this point, the journey was broken up into shorter sections between points. I was at Huntington and Godmanchester in no time at all and then onto Royston. Again, the countryside was largely featureless and flat. However, the closer to Royston I got, the more hills there were. And this was a welcome distraction and added a bit of variation to the monotony of the constant straight and flat roads.
A fish and chip lunch in Royston (where there was a heavy police presence owing to what appeared to be a ram-raid on a bank) was a welcome break. This was the 90 mile point of the day, and unlike yesterday, I felt fresh. I think the adrenaline was kicking in. After a half hour break 2 cyclists went past and appeared to be heading in my direction onto the A10. I changed the playlist on the iPod to something a bit more "cheesy" and hopped on the bike. I had a sneaking suspicion that as I had descended a long hill into Royston there might be a climb out of the town....but I wasn't expecting the hill I had to negotiate. Luckily, the 2 cyclists I saw go past earlier were ahead of me. It was like having pace setters and it helped pull me up to the summit.
Now I had the bit between my teeth and nothing was going to stop me. The A10 was busy and there were a lot of HGVs out. Throughout the planning of the route I had tried my best to avoid dual-carriageways however the A10 north of the village of Puckeridge was unavoidable. I decided the best option was to pedal as fast as I could and get off there as quickly as possible. I then turned off onto the old A10 and followed it to Ware in Hertfordshire. The ride was now becoming less of a struggle and slog and more of an enjoyable ride. I started to take note of what was around me, appreciating the weather and generally having fun. The route was no a good mixture of downhill sections and steeper uphill gradients. Approaching Wadesmill I started to descend a hill, got my head down and went for it. Hitting 40mph and sweeping around a few bends into the village, I was finally enjoying things.
Ware was the start of, what to me, was the beginning of the urban landscape that would eventually lead to London. It had the look and feel of London suburbia. It was stop start stop through traffic lights and junctions. A few more climbs up through Hoddesdon, Cheshunt and Waltham Cross and I was starting to feel the end in sight. I was about 15 miles away and close to a final rendez-vous with dad who arranged to meet me at Waltham Abbey.
The idea was to follow dad into London and to Upton Park. I set the sat nav up for him, and off dad went. This was the final push and I was like a man possessed. I felt sorry for dad because he was constantly driving off, pulling over, waiting for me and then driving off again. I was averaging 20+mph, pushing on and full of energy. And then coming over the crest of a hill, I caught my first glimpse of London. In the distance I could see the skyline of The City. I was there. I was so close.
Dad was patient waiting for me to catch up. As we approached a roundabout I could see the choice was go left and up a steep hill to Chingford or right to Walthamstow. When I was planning the route my preferred choice was Chingford as it look more direct and the roads looked friendlier. However, I saw the warning on the sign indicating a steep incline. I was hoping dad wouldn't indicate left. Nothing. And then as he got to the roundabout he indicated right to Walthamstow. "Yes!!" I accelerated and caught him up just after the roundabout and gave him the thumbs up.
"You ok?" I could see him mouth. "Perfect!!" was my reply.
And then it happened. Dad was relying on the sat nav. London has changed a lot since he moved to Newcastle from East Ham in 1972. The last time he was in the east end was 21 years earlier. So, with dad being a bit unfamiliar, he duly followed its every direction. I saw the sign ahead but thought, "Nah. He wouldn't" But he did. Onto the North Circular....in the rush hour! I white cycling shorts!!! It was probably no more than 1 mile but I have never been so scared. There were cars coming at me from all directions. I have never cycled so fast!! I could see an underpass coming up and no sign of dad! So I took the next exit and there he was at the roundabout waiting at the traffic lights. I knew where I was...Walthamstow Dog Track. From there it was easy, through "The Stow", Leyton and Stratford, tailing dad all the way. Every so often I'd give them thumbs up to say I was ok, which was misunderstood at one set of traffic lights when a passer by asked if he had nearly run me over and that I should "chin him".
At Stratford, I left dad. He followed the sat nav and I went on to see my nan's old flats...only to find that they've been knocked down which hit me hard. I had so many great memories of summers spent there when I was younger. And now it's gone!
Onto Romford Road, a wrong turn onto Upton Lane and a quick detour down some back streets onto Green Street and there it was. The roof of the West Stand at Upton Park. I was there. Do I sprint the last bit or not. I decided to savour it and coasted in. I was still unsure about what to expect. There had been no word from West Ham United. But at least dad would be there......
Wrong! No sign of dad. Claudine from Cancer Research UK was there and was a sight for sore eyes. Bottles of water, lucazade, nut bars, everything!!! I was gobsmacked. I had my own welcome party/cheerleader! And I felt really bad for being a bit "snappy" with Claudine on the phone last week when discussing the Great North Run. And then she hit me with the news I was waiting for. "I've spoken to security and they've decided to let you go into the ground by the pitch". I could have cried! But we had a problem...where the hell was dad??
15 minutes later I called him. "I'm on Green Street outside the front of the stadium". Um, no he wasn't. And there he was, walking in through the John Lyall Gates. But where was the car? I had forgotten that the last time Dad had been to Upton Park was 1989 and it was before the stadium had been rebuilt and there was nothing outside the ground other than a school and portakabin (the club shop). So he'd parked in a back street (after taking the wrong turn and deciding to have a look at the house he grew up in - I can forgive him for that).
We made our way into the West Stand and were escorted down the players tunnel and out to the pitch....I had done it. 140 miles and this was the most appropriate end of the 3 days, under the gaze of Bobby himself. Dad was in awe. He didn't recognise the ground. I crashed out on the club crest by the pitch. It was time to savour the moment. It was great. Photos taken we were shown around the dressing rooms and had a good chat with the security guard who was a complete gentleman, giving us facts about what happens on match day etc. I didn't want to leave.
Eventually we headed off, said goodbye to Claudine and headed back to the car. Truth be told, it hadn't sunk in. I had done it but I couldn't appreciate it. The bike was slung in the back of the car and I drove to our hotel near Stansted Airport (with a bit of a commentary from dad as we drove along Barking Road, "I saw Roy Orbison when that was a cinema. The Beatles were the support act" as we went past a Mecca Bingo hall).
And that was the 3 days. Plenty of ups and downs, fluctuations of emotions. Blood, sweat and tears. But I had done it, and it felt good.
Monday 20 September 2010
Day 2 Newcaslte to Lincoln
So, after the fun and games of the Great North Run came day 1 of the cycling between Newcastle and Lincoln.
I'd had a fairly good night's sleep only waking when the rain started hammering down outside at about 1am. Up at 5am I started ramming porridge and poached eggs down my throat, determined to make sure I had enough fuel onboard for the first 50-60miles or so.
We got to St James' Park just after 7am. I know dad was chirping away to me as we walked under the Milburn Stand to main reception but to be brutally honest, I'm not too sure what he was saying. I was too busy walking through the route in my head, where food stops were and where the main challenges for the day would be. After a quick pose for a photo (note the look of fear) I was ready to go.
I'd had a fairly good night's sleep only waking when the rain started hammering down outside at about 1am. Up at 5am I started ramming porridge and poached eggs down my throat, determined to make sure I had enough fuel onboard for the first 50-60miles or so.
We got to St James' Park just after 7am. I know dad was chirping away to me as we walked under the Milburn Stand to main reception but to be brutally honest, I'm not too sure what he was saying. I was too busy walking through the route in my head, where food stops were and where the main challenges for the day would be. After a quick pose for a photo (note the look of fear) I was ready to go.
I headed off through the quiet city centre and headed off to the Tyne Bridge. The traffic was solid but I nipped in and out of the queues. It felt odd crossing the river. Only yesterday I was running across the bridge with 50000 other runners cheered on by hundreds of people. Today, it was a completely different bridge.
Once off the bridge, I headed towards the flyover which would take me onto Durham Road and through Gateshead....and thats where the first mishap took place. Dropping down to the smaller gear the chain flipped off and sat limp...similar to what happened to Andy Schleck in this year Tour de France only in a more glamorous location. I quickly got the chain back on with minimal fuss and as I pushed off I noticed blood dripping from my thumb. Somehow (and I still don't know how I did it) I had sliced my thumbnail open. With dad still way back in the centre of Newcastle stuck in traffic I had to just keep going.
Once through Gateshead I was in my rhythm and felt fine. But I was aware that the wind was whipping around from the West...basically right across me. Not as bad as a full on head wind but it was still a struggle. Dad eventually went past me in Birtley and I signalled that I need 1st Aid which was duelly given.
And from there it was a relatively pleasant ride through to Thirsk. The A167 from Chester le Street was a fairly straight forward road to negotiate with a few steep climbs and some lovely downhill stretches. But it was on one of the climbs close to Spennymoor that I saw the most bizarre thing I have seen for a long time. A man was walking towards me in full Ancient Greek warrior costume (yup including the "skirt"). I couldn't help but stare. He just looked at me as said "Morning!". It was like what he was wearing was completely normal.
Heading into North Yorkshire I arrived at Northallerton and then a bit further on, Thirsk. So far, the ride was being broken up into nice little segments of cycling...but that was about to change. from Thirsk I headed onto the A19 to York. This was 22 miles of complete hell. The road surface for the majority of the ride down to York was appaling. The vibration through the bike was making me ache and with the wind swirling round, it was making for a very unpleasant ride.
York was an absolutely joy once I got there. Getting back into an urban setting where it was stop start stop was refreshing. But I didn't have time to admite the architecture etc. I was bang on schedule and wanted to push on. Unfortunately, the road down to Selby was just a bad as the road to York, and the wind was getting stronger. I knew that if I could get to Selby and then turn off towards Goole I would be fine as I would have a strong tailwind.
I had a food stop near Selby where dad was waiting for me. I felt awful as he was getting stern 1 word answers from me but my mind was firmly fixed on what was coming up. I had got to 90 miles and wanted to press on. I could see the huge Drax power station and the quite obvious torrential rain that surrounded it...and I was heading that way.
On the road to Goole my expected tailwind never materialised. The wind seemed to be gusting in from every direction! The drivers were mentalists giving me no room. The road surface was worse than anything I had experienced before. Basically I was complaining about everything. However, I had reached the 100mile mark...a huge milestone. Dad had told me that he would wait for me south of Goole (all along the route, dad was driving ahead of me and waiting at spots by the road to make sure I was ok). That seemed a long way away. It wasn't but it felt it.
On the way to Goole I got blown off the bike. Nothing serious. Just got a bit buffetted as a truck went past and ended up going into the verge...luckily there was no curb. And then I thought I'd missed a turning and added several miles onto my journey which did all sorts of things to my head. I was starting to think more and more negatively and couldn't snap myself out of it.
And then I get the phone call from dad.
Dad: I'm lost
Me: But you've got all the maps...and the sat nav.
D: I know but I've taken a wrong turn and ended up somewhere in Goole and I don't know how to use your sat nav.
Me: What can you see?
D: I'm parked by the sports centre.
Me: Wait there.
So I turned off my route and headed into Goole, with no idea of where I was going. I eventually found him and sorted the sat nav out. I'm quite pleased that happened as it was a healthy distraction.
But what was becoming more and more apparent was the pain in my back, hips and bum! The wind was getting stronger, the roads from Goole to Gainsborough and then to Lincoln was long drags with very little in the way of scenery. Looking out west the countryside was featureless and flat. Just farm land and nothing to act as a barrier from the wind.
It was becoming painful and not enjoyable and as a result not very interesting. The only saving grace was the road was virtually flat. And then I saw it, Lincoln Cathedral, perched onto of a hill like a beacon saying "You've only got THIS far to go". Lovely, but I had little left in the tank and couldn't pedal any fast than I could.
So, here I am. Sat in my room at the hotel in Lincoln. I've covered 159miles (a little less than anticipated thanks to dad working out a slightly shorter (and safer) route this morning. I've soaked in an ice cold bath which has helped my legs. I'm feeling tired and apprehensive tonight but looking forward to the ride down to London. Dad has done a quick calculation and thinks it should be about 132miles.
I'm absolutely goosed so I'm going to call it a day and head for bed!!
Until next time..
Sunday 19 September 2010
As seen by Cheryl Baker!
So the ore we have it. Day 1 of the three day biathlon done. This was the one i was dreading...mainly because of the lack of training I had managed to out in after I turned my ankle in Ibiza. 7 miles training in 4 weeks wasn't good.
I got to the start area and took part in the warm up (and managed to kick a man in the face while doing the warm up). I got a bit emotional while waiting in my starting zone. I had time to reflect on everything and how the past 7 months training had brought me to this moment. My chin was wobbling a bit...but then the announcer started telling us about the servicemen who were taking part, some of them amputees. That was me gone! I managed to pull it together, started to concentrate on what was ahead, the gun went and then "Local Hero" blasted out over the tannoy system....gone again!
My aim was to get to the half way point without stopping and then any further after that was a bonus. It's difficult to take a steady pace when everyone is going like the clappers at the start and you've got the crowd urging you on. I decided the best option was to pick someone out who was running at my preferred pace and stick with them. It worked perfectly for the first 2 miles. The pace was perfect, but I could feel my right calf pulling a bit....I'd been having problems with my calf for a few days now but I decided to try and run it off. Everything else felt fine. My breathing was perfect, the knees were good and more important I was happy.
I decided before the race to take the lower level of the Central Motorway as it is more or less level as compared to the climb onto the top level. And it was on the Central Motorway where it happened. There ahead of me was a woman in a black t-shirt and on the back of the t-shirt i big silver writing was "Cheryl Baker". I gradually caught up and as I pulled level look to my right. Yup, it was Cheryl Baker of Bucks Fizz and Record Breakers fame. Wow!! I was dumbstruck! She looked at me and said "Alright?!" and smiled. "I am now Cheryl. Have a good run" I said as I went past. "You too sweetheart". Cheryl Baker called me sweetheart!!!!!
Anyway, off I went, over the Tyne Bridge, past Gateshead Stadium and up the long, long hill between the 3 and 6 mile point. Horrible!!! I noticed as we approached the Heworth Roundabout just short of the 5 mile mark than everyone was silent. The joviality had gone. This was serious and hurting everyone! We were helping each other up to the 6 mile mark. The pace was still fast as I was starting from near the front. I saw the sign saying "Half way" and thought, "Jesus, I'm half way!! I've got to run all that again. But I feel good"
There were helpful distractions along the way. A man running in just a nappy break dancing in front of one of the bands and then running backwards and forwards slapping as many hands as possible was just brilliant. He raised a smile when it started to hurt.
Literally bumping into another runner running for the Bobby Moore Fund (and fellow West Ham Supporter) was great. Having somebody to chat with for a few miles was just the tonic. We parted and around the 8 mile mark I bumped into another guy running for the charity and thats when it hit home...this is why I'm doing this.
We got chatting, naturally about football. He was a season ticket holder at Manchester United, but Bobby Moore is a hero of his and the charity meant so much as he had suffered from bowel cancer. He got the all clear last year after fighting it for 10 years. And this was the 15th time he had run the Great North Run....the only times he didn't run was when he was undergoing chemo. I had full and total respect for him.
I ploughed on ahead climbing the long gradual gradient that takes you from the 8 miles mark to the steep decent to the coast at 12 miles. It was at this point that you started to see people dropping. One guy was being helped by the St John's Ambulance folk. He looked completely spaced. It was frightening. This was the point where the crowd came into their own. the encouragement was awesome. Oranges were being dished out, ice lollies were being snapped up and one running club were dishing out beer!!!
At the 10.5mile mark I noticed my calf was playing up again but the pain was getting unbearable. Climbing up the gradually steepening hill it was getting worse. "Just get to 11 miles and see how we are". Past 11 miles I was still running but with less comfort. At 11.5miles I couldn't take the pain any more. I had to drop to a walk and try and stretch it out. I headed over to a shower to cool down and as I came out I got a tap on the shoulder and it was the Man Utd supporter. "Come on!! You can't stop now".
I got going again, changing my stride pattern to suit and to reduce the pain. Down to the coast and onto the long drag to the finish, my new pal was urging me on, coaxing me all the way. When we got to half a mile or so to go, he shouted "Go". I looked at him and he stared at me and shouted "Go!", so I did. Gritting my teeth all the way.
I wasn't exactly steaming along but I could see the finish getting ever closer but people were dropping like flies. There was a man sprawled out on the pavement getting attention...one woman had fainted and was being tended too.
I go to the finish with chin wobbling. "Get a grip....you've done this twice before". I knew I had done it in under 2 hours so I was delighted. With my medal proudly displayed around my neck I made my way to the Cancer Research tent. My kids George and Charlotte saw me and ran. I could feel myself getting a bit emotional but when I heard George shout "DADDY WON!!!" I sank to my knees sobbing. It was the best cuddle I have ever got from my kids! It took all the pain away.
Inside the tent I grabbed any food I could get my hands on and rammed it down my throat (to be honest, I've not stopped eating all day! Not long after, the heavens opened and we walked back to the Shields Ferry in a torrential downpour...but it was great!
Back home now, I'm a bit fragile but I'm ready for tomorrow. I'm under now illusion that it's going to be hell but the weather looks good and I'm looking forward to it. Me and the bike!
Right, thats me done for today! I'm shattered!!
I got to the start area and took part in the warm up (and managed to kick a man in the face while doing the warm up). I got a bit emotional while waiting in my starting zone. I had time to reflect on everything and how the past 7 months training had brought me to this moment. My chin was wobbling a bit...but then the announcer started telling us about the servicemen who were taking part, some of them amputees. That was me gone! I managed to pull it together, started to concentrate on what was ahead, the gun went and then "Local Hero" blasted out over the tannoy system....gone again!
My aim was to get to the half way point without stopping and then any further after that was a bonus. It's difficult to take a steady pace when everyone is going like the clappers at the start and you've got the crowd urging you on. I decided the best option was to pick someone out who was running at my preferred pace and stick with them. It worked perfectly for the first 2 miles. The pace was perfect, but I could feel my right calf pulling a bit....I'd been having problems with my calf for a few days now but I decided to try and run it off. Everything else felt fine. My breathing was perfect, the knees were good and more important I was happy.
I decided before the race to take the lower level of the Central Motorway as it is more or less level as compared to the climb onto the top level. And it was on the Central Motorway where it happened. There ahead of me was a woman in a black t-shirt and on the back of the t-shirt i big silver writing was "Cheryl Baker". I gradually caught up and as I pulled level look to my right. Yup, it was Cheryl Baker of Bucks Fizz and Record Breakers fame. Wow!! I was dumbstruck! She looked at me and said "Alright?!" and smiled. "I am now Cheryl. Have a good run" I said as I went past. "You too sweetheart". Cheryl Baker called me sweetheart!!!!!
Anyway, off I went, over the Tyne Bridge, past Gateshead Stadium and up the long, long hill between the 3 and 6 mile point. Horrible!!! I noticed as we approached the Heworth Roundabout just short of the 5 mile mark than everyone was silent. The joviality had gone. This was serious and hurting everyone! We were helping each other up to the 6 mile mark. The pace was still fast as I was starting from near the front. I saw the sign saying "Half way" and thought, "Jesus, I'm half way!! I've got to run all that again. But I feel good"
There were helpful distractions along the way. A man running in just a nappy break dancing in front of one of the bands and then running backwards and forwards slapping as many hands as possible was just brilliant. He raised a smile when it started to hurt.
Literally bumping into another runner running for the Bobby Moore Fund (and fellow West Ham Supporter) was great. Having somebody to chat with for a few miles was just the tonic. We parted and around the 8 mile mark I bumped into another guy running for the charity and thats when it hit home...this is why I'm doing this.
We got chatting, naturally about football. He was a season ticket holder at Manchester United, but Bobby Moore is a hero of his and the charity meant so much as he had suffered from bowel cancer. He got the all clear last year after fighting it for 10 years. And this was the 15th time he had run the Great North Run....the only times he didn't run was when he was undergoing chemo. I had full and total respect for him.
I ploughed on ahead climbing the long gradual gradient that takes you from the 8 miles mark to the steep decent to the coast at 12 miles. It was at this point that you started to see people dropping. One guy was being helped by the St John's Ambulance folk. He looked completely spaced. It was frightening. This was the point where the crowd came into their own. the encouragement was awesome. Oranges were being dished out, ice lollies were being snapped up and one running club were dishing out beer!!!
At the 10.5mile mark I noticed my calf was playing up again but the pain was getting unbearable. Climbing up the gradually steepening hill it was getting worse. "Just get to 11 miles and see how we are". Past 11 miles I was still running but with less comfort. At 11.5miles I couldn't take the pain any more. I had to drop to a walk and try and stretch it out. I headed over to a shower to cool down and as I came out I got a tap on the shoulder and it was the Man Utd supporter. "Come on!! You can't stop now".
I got going again, changing my stride pattern to suit and to reduce the pain. Down to the coast and onto the long drag to the finish, my new pal was urging me on, coaxing me all the way. When we got to half a mile or so to go, he shouted "Go". I looked at him and he stared at me and shouted "Go!", so I did. Gritting my teeth all the way.
I wasn't exactly steaming along but I could see the finish getting ever closer but people were dropping like flies. There was a man sprawled out on the pavement getting attention...one woman had fainted and was being tended too.
I go to the finish with chin wobbling. "Get a grip....you've done this twice before". I knew I had done it in under 2 hours so I was delighted. With my medal proudly displayed around my neck I made my way to the Cancer Research tent. My kids George and Charlotte saw me and ran. I could feel myself getting a bit emotional but when I heard George shout "DADDY WON!!!" I sank to my knees sobbing. It was the best cuddle I have ever got from my kids! It took all the pain away.
Inside the tent I grabbed any food I could get my hands on and rammed it down my throat (to be honest, I've not stopped eating all day! Not long after, the heavens opened and we walked back to the Shields Ferry in a torrential downpour...but it was great!
Back home now, I'm a bit fragile but I'm ready for tomorrow. I'm under now illusion that it's going to be hell but the weather looks good and I'm looking forward to it. Me and the bike!
Right, thats me done for today! I'm shattered!!
Saturday 18 September 2010
A Huge Thank You To....
Well, this time tomorrow I would have finished part one of the biathlon. It's been an interesting week...a trying week shall we say. Anyway, I thought I'd take this opportunity to say thank you to those people who have helped me over the past few months. In no particular order:
Anyway, there's no turning back now. I'm scared to be honest. It's going to hurt but I'm bloody well determined to do this and raise money in memory of such a great man.
VIVA BOBBY MOORE!!!!
- Emma Pollard
- Sara Fisher
- Antonia Pellegrino and the folks at Be-Fit
- Paul, Debbie and Claudine at Cancer Research UK
- The West Ham Supporters especially the folks on KUMB.com
- The Newcastle United Supporters who have been brilliant in their support for me and basically stuck 2 fingers up at the small minded folks who said nobody in the North East would be interested in the Bobby Moore Fund for Cancer Research UK
- Gordon Woodhead for his invaluable cycling advice
- And everyone who has sponsored me so far and given me encouragement when I've been at my lowest points
Anyway, there's no turning back now. I'm scared to be honest. It's going to hurt but I'm bloody well determined to do this and raise money in memory of such a great man.
VIVA BOBBY MOORE!!!!
Monday 13 September 2010
Nerves setting in
So with a little under a week to go, the nerves are setting in. The seeds of doubt are there...have I trained enough, have I bitten off more than I can chew??
I know this is going to hurt. The longest stage of this years Tour de France was 5 miles less than what my first day of cycling will be. Believe me, I've trained. I've trained really hard. But I'm worried I haven't done enough.
6am, 5 days a week since May I've been heading to the gym working on strength and stamina. And from that side of things I have seen the benefits. I am stronger, I am a hell of a lot fitter. I am leaner. My friends and family have all noticed the difference in my shape and appearance. Which is good, but is it enough to get me down to Lincoln on the first day?
I've been doing a lot of cycling. But have I done enough. I'm finding 50-80 miles is easy enough now, but I've rarely gone above 100 miles. My technique on the bike is a lot better. I'm more flexible and can get right down on the bars. I'm more efficient in my pedalling and use of gears so I'm using less energy. So yes I suppose I am ready.
There is a bit of mind games I'm playing with myself. Positive Mental Attitude. I keep telling myself I can do this. I've started talking to myself when I'm cycling. I get some great looks from passers by. I've taken a lot of inspiration after reading Lance Armstrong's "Every second counts". He is famously quoted as saying "Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever". However, in the book he talks about the phrase "No Chain", a phrase the US Postal Service Team used a lot in the Tour de France in 2003. Basically, the idea is that with no chain, it's very easy to pedal. So when the call went out to a team member "hows it going", the response was "No chain!" i.e. I'm finding this easy! So when it gets tough, I keep telling myself "No Chain"...and do you know what, it works. It actually makes me chuckle when I do it to which helps.
I had my final training ride at the weekend. I took the bike down to my friends farm in Oxfordshire. I had a lovely ride through the Chilton's. Only 40ish miles but a lot of steep, long hills....which I will not have in either day of the cycling part of the biathlon. By the time I had finished I wanted to do more. It was windy, it was raining but I loved it. So maybe I am ready.
However, the running is proving a problem. My ankle still isn't right. I've done a few 2-3 mile runs but the ankle just isn't right. I can't put the pressure on I could before. I definitely won't be going for a pacey time on Sunday in the Great North Run. However, I was up to 8 miles before I damaged the ankle so I am sure I will be ok.
So, maybe I am ready....or ready as I ever will be.
In terms of publicity, its not been too bad. Northumberland Gazette, News Guardian in North Tyneside and the Newham Recorder in London have picked up the story. And my friends and family have been amazing.
I'm still disappointed with the lack of response from both West Ham United and Newcastle United. As I've said before, I don't want fan fairs etc, I just want access to the pitches to get a photo done and start and end the bike ride properly. I definitely don't want to finish 2 days and 300 miles of cycling only to get to the front doors of Upton Park, not get any further and then go "Well, that's that then" and go home.
I remember when I cycled the 20 premiership grounds in 2007 I had a similar lack of response from West Ham and I remember cycling down Green Street on my final day, overcome with the emotion of 2 weeks of cycling, unsure of what to expect at the ground. Luckily, unbeknown to me, the Corporate Chef at Upton Park, Keith Ross, had been following my progress and welcomed me, showing me around and generally giving me an absolutely mind blowing finale.
I don't expect the same but I'm hoping and praying Bobby's up there watching and shining down on Upton Park on Tuesday 21st for me.
So that's where I am. I'm itching to get started. I just hope this wind dies down by next Monday.
Finally, I encourage everyone reading this to visit my fundraising page and sponsor me....I'm still a long way from my £3000 target. www.justgiving.com/bobbymoorebiathlon
Until next time....
I know this is going to hurt. The longest stage of this years Tour de France was 5 miles less than what my first day of cycling will be. Believe me, I've trained. I've trained really hard. But I'm worried I haven't done enough.
6am, 5 days a week since May I've been heading to the gym working on strength and stamina. And from that side of things I have seen the benefits. I am stronger, I am a hell of a lot fitter. I am leaner. My friends and family have all noticed the difference in my shape and appearance. Which is good, but is it enough to get me down to Lincoln on the first day?
I've been doing a lot of cycling. But have I done enough. I'm finding 50-80 miles is easy enough now, but I've rarely gone above 100 miles. My technique on the bike is a lot better. I'm more flexible and can get right down on the bars. I'm more efficient in my pedalling and use of gears so I'm using less energy. So yes I suppose I am ready.
There is a bit of mind games I'm playing with myself. Positive Mental Attitude. I keep telling myself I can do this. I've started talking to myself when I'm cycling. I get some great looks from passers by. I've taken a lot of inspiration after reading Lance Armstrong's "Every second counts". He is famously quoted as saying "Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever". However, in the book he talks about the phrase "No Chain", a phrase the US Postal Service Team used a lot in the Tour de France in 2003. Basically, the idea is that with no chain, it's very easy to pedal. So when the call went out to a team member "hows it going", the response was "No chain!" i.e. I'm finding this easy! So when it gets tough, I keep telling myself "No Chain"...and do you know what, it works. It actually makes me chuckle when I do it to which helps.
I had my final training ride at the weekend. I took the bike down to my friends farm in Oxfordshire. I had a lovely ride through the Chilton's. Only 40ish miles but a lot of steep, long hills....which I will not have in either day of the cycling part of the biathlon. By the time I had finished I wanted to do more. It was windy, it was raining but I loved it. So maybe I am ready.
However, the running is proving a problem. My ankle still isn't right. I've done a few 2-3 mile runs but the ankle just isn't right. I can't put the pressure on I could before. I definitely won't be going for a pacey time on Sunday in the Great North Run. However, I was up to 8 miles before I damaged the ankle so I am sure I will be ok.
So, maybe I am ready....or ready as I ever will be.
In terms of publicity, its not been too bad. Northumberland Gazette, News Guardian in North Tyneside and the Newham Recorder in London have picked up the story. And my friends and family have been amazing.
I'm still disappointed with the lack of response from both West Ham United and Newcastle United. As I've said before, I don't want fan fairs etc, I just want access to the pitches to get a photo done and start and end the bike ride properly. I definitely don't want to finish 2 days and 300 miles of cycling only to get to the front doors of Upton Park, not get any further and then go "Well, that's that then" and go home.
I remember when I cycled the 20 premiership grounds in 2007 I had a similar lack of response from West Ham and I remember cycling down Green Street on my final day, overcome with the emotion of 2 weeks of cycling, unsure of what to expect at the ground. Luckily, unbeknown to me, the Corporate Chef at Upton Park, Keith Ross, had been following my progress and welcomed me, showing me around and generally giving me an absolutely mind blowing finale.
I don't expect the same but I'm hoping and praying Bobby's up there watching and shining down on Upton Park on Tuesday 21st for me.
So that's where I am. I'm itching to get started. I just hope this wind dies down by next Monday.
Finally, I encourage everyone reading this to visit my fundraising page and sponsor me....I'm still a long way from my £3000 target. www.justgiving.com/bobbymoorebiathlon
Until next time....
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