3 Tough Challenges for 3 Top Charities

The morning after

2010-11-08T17:24:00.000Z

Official time 4:18:16.

I'm very happy with that. The aim was for sub five hour, with my personal aim of being below 4.30 as being pretty spectacular. So yes, I'm happy.

This morning we are hobbling around struggling to get up and down roadside kerbs, having to hold on to lamposts to avoid falling into the road. We just had breakfast to load up on energy, and dinner last night was Pizza and beer in the hotel room - it was all we could do to muster the energy to order pizza.

This morning everyone is full of storys of the marathon, of personal battles with injury, pain and the sheer exertion. Everyone talks about the atmosphere of the marathon, and it was fantastic. Every mile of the run was lined with people cheering us on, with plackards and banners. People called out 'Go Simon', from the name written on my shirt, and it gave such a boost. Strangers supporting us, pushing us on. It was amazing.
Bands played every half mile or so, everything from rock to rap, giving us energy.

We wrapped up warm at the start, in our sleeping bags protecting us from the cold New York air and the brisk northerly wind. We ate bagels, drank water and talked excitedly. Apprehensively.

We milled around at the start, waiting for our time. We were in the third wave of starters - the last to go.
Finally our time came, we were off over thr bridge from Staten Island, a mile of uphil, over the apex and then a mile of down hill. The crowds of runners was amazing, the views of New York spectacular.

The course was hilly, everything I have read about it is true. Hill after hill, running into the wind, cross winds on the bridges. Ohhh the bridges, some of the steepest sections were on the bridges, painful to run up, painful to run down. My knee screaming with pain on the way down the bridges, by thighs wanting to buckle under the strain. The hills themselves were not steep, but they were long and inceasant. Climb then fall, climb then fall. I don't recall a flat section. There were demoralising sections, some very long streets like first avenue, up and up and up, then down and down and down. The crowds kept us going "Go Simon. You're looking good". Feeling terrible.

I was tired at half way, my thighs aching and hamstrings tight. I'd gone off too fast, lured into it by April, I should have stuck to my own plan. The first six miles flew by, 10K reached in no time. The adrenalin pushes you on, you can do it, you can get a great time. David, April and I had stuck together until now, but over the next few miles I lost April and then David. I couldn't tell if David was ahead or behind, but I could see April moving ahead. Maybe just a few paces every 100 metres, but slowly and surely she moved on, I had to run my own pace. The serious business was starting now.

By half way I was aching, I realised I had to drop the pace or risk not finishing. April was out of sight by now. David I hoped was still going with his hamstring injury. "Come on David, you can do it". "Come on Simon, you can do it", I added, this was tough. The next few miles were hard work, long streets, long hills. Drinking water and energy drink at every opportunity. The early morning coolness had gone and the sun was shining on us.

By 18 miles I had a stitch that was threatening to double me up. I had to balance drinking water and making it worse, and dehydrating in the warming day. I sipped water and gatorade alternately, and by mile 22 it became tolerable. My leg was in agony now, too. I had taken 5 paracetomol, and I took another now. Just need to get through this. The uphills were fine, but on corners and kerbs and downhills I had to battle the tendancy for it to either buckle or bend back. Come on leg, just a few miles to go.

21 miles and we were back on Manhatten, the final stretch, just 5.2 miles to go. I plodded down fifth avenue. Just like on the mountains my mind was wanting to sink into the survival zone, the little kernal deep in the mind where completing the task is the only thing that matters, but the crowd wouldn't let that happen. "Come on Simon - nearly there".

22 miles down, 4.2 to go. This was a landmark, this is the distance of the training run round the reservoir at home. "4.2 miles" I said to myself "who can't run 4.2 miles". The end was tangible now, there was no way I wouldn't finish, I could walk it from here.

23 miles, still on fifth avenue. 24 miles, turn off fifth into Central Park. 2.2 miles to go "just a warm up run, anyone can run 2.2 miles, don't give up now". My pace was drifting around all over the place: I'd drop down to 10 minute miles, or even 10.30. My average was heading towards 9.50. Whenever I caught myself, I'd pick up my knees and run, the pain in the thighs searing, but the pain in my knee lessened. Come on.

25 miles, 1.2 to go. The crowds still fantastic "your looking good. Go Simon, nearly there!". So far I'd tried to wave and say thank-you to everyone who called my name, but now I could barely lift my arms. I caught the 9.20 pace runner "just stick with her and we'll be ok, keep pushing". I did, it was painful but I did. I skipped out on the last two water stops, it was a melé, people stopped everywhere, people stumbling for water. Keep clear, keep going. A mile to go: "Here we go, I can definitely do this now" I found a burst of energy from somewhere and stepped up the pace, muscles screaming I stretched out my stride. 800 metres to go, the crowd phenomenal, "GO SIMON". I'm going, I'm going, Every sinew wanting to stop, keep going. 400 metres: "COME ON SIMON YOU CAN DO IT" screamed people in the crowd. 200 yards: I can see the finish. Push push push, trying to go faster, legs barely responding. 100 metres "aaarrgghh. push push push". 50 metres "GO SIMON YOU DID IT" yells someone, FINISH!

I slowed to a walk. My body starts to shuts down, things get wobbly. Deep breaths, focus the eyes. My legs are immediately consumed with lactic acid, they are stiff beyond belief. My knee screams in renewed pain. I don't care. I get someone to take my picture, and I reciprocate. I collect my medal, another photo.

I hobble to the baggage pick up area, where's April? Someone stuffs a foil sheet and a bag of food and drink in my hand, I just want to find April. I push through the crowds on wooden legs, tripping over anything higher than a pebble.
We find each other eventually, we made it!

We exited and made our way back. We tried to get hold of David - he'd made it too! We'd all done it. Good job us.

made it

2010-11-08T16:22:00.000Z

Unofficial time 4h18

Some of my body parts still work. The ones I can still feel pain in I know are still there. The rest I have no idea.

a massive thanks to everyone who has sponsored and supported us. It means a lot.

Now: To the pub!

start line

2010-11-07T15:30:00.000Z

On your marks...

Get set...

GO GO GO

on the way to the start

2010-11-07T12:04:00.000Z

26.2 miles. Really?

Well, we'll find out today one way or another! We woke at around 4.45 am... and 3.30, and 2.45 and 1.30, but thanks to the 5 hour time difference with the UK it doesn't feel too antisocial. Each time I woke to pee, I had a drink too. A never ending cycle, but I'd rather be tired than thirsty.
We gathered our stuff and made some last minute alterations and checks and headed down to the hotel lobby for 6am to meet the rest of the group. We then walked up Manhattan, via an almost deserted Times Square, with the giant electronic billboards shouting out their messages to the streets populated sporadically with marathon runners. Then on to the Park Central hotel to meet the main groups of runners. Now we sit on the coach ready to take us to the start line.

The start is still 3 hours away, people chat nervously or sit in silence. At least it is warm on the coach, compared to the early morning New York dawn. The sky is all but clear, a light haze is all that blocks the sun, that and the 10, 20 or 30 storey buildings that surround us. It will be a couple of hours yet before the sun is high enough to penetrate the narrow slot between the buildings and bring warmth to street level.

We are prepared for this. We are wearing disposable clothes that we can jettison at the start. These are collected to give to the needy. April and I have brought some old sleeping bags too.

So this is it. In eight hours time we'll know what metal we are made of... For me, this is the toughest challenge. Bring it on!

New York New York

2010-11-07T02:25:00.000Z

Here we are in New York, the night before the marathon.
Last night after arriving we headed out to Tony's to get pasta. The idea being to fill up with as much carbohydrate as possible. Too be honest I was too tired to eat too much, but I at as much as I could and had a couple of beers to wash it all down.

Today we went to the expo, where we registered, got our goody bags and shopped for last minute items. I picked up some gloves because its looking like being cold tomorrow AM. Low 40s F, below 10c, with 10kph wind from the North. Most of the race is running north, so that isn't good! I breakfasted on the free snacks in the goody bags.

We also got a bus down to a sports store for David to look for something for his legs, some compression shorts. We had a free lunch there too, hotdogs and pizza.

After that, back to the hotel. I slept for a couple of hours to catch up from last night's poor effort of sleeping. April prepped her kit.

This evening we headed up to central park to go to the marathon eve party, pictured. Basically free food for marathoners, and beer if you wanted it (I reluctantly abstained, helped by the fact it was Coors light). There were fireworks too, which we missed because we were too busy stuffing our faces with vegetarian pasta. Come to think of it everything I've had today has been vegetarian. I include the hotdogs in that too, because I'm not convinced they ever been anywhere near an animal product.

So today was essentially a trail of free food for me, except for a pack of doritos I picked up on the way to the hotel. I was served by a girl who might have been talking English, but I'm not sure. There was a 10 second satellite delay while I processed what she said, and then had to say 'what?'. To which her general response was to look agitated and point.

Back at the hotel, we re-checked our kit, pinned our numbers to our shirts and sorted all our gear for tomorrow. Its a 5am wake up tomorrow, so there'll be no time or inclination in the morning.

on the plane

2010-11-05T13:20:00.001Z

So, here we go. We're on the plane having successfully negotiated issues. I had forgotten to take the backup tapes to work, so had to do it on the way this morning, David lost his house keys so we hunted around for them, and incurred another diversion to drop Rachel's keys back with her. At the airport I was told off for leaving my bag unattended, and then I was selected for a 'random' search.
We are here now though.

I'm looking forward to getting there now. Tonight we go out for pasta, tomorrow is registration and the Expo, presumably where we have the opportunity to buy souvenir tat.

last run, probably

2010-11-03T20:46:00.000Z

Its the Wednesday before the Sunday. The last run before the big run. Five miles tonight crammed in on the treadmill between work and going to visit my parents, at 9 minute mile pace. My legs felt tired, I felt tired, probably due to not doing recovery running yesterday in favour of having a few beers and a couple of vinos with a friend. I don't regret it.

The run might be the last, or I might squeeze a short one in on Friday. I'm not really following a plan as such, more just copying April. She ran, so I ran. She did 9 minute miles, I did 9 minute miles. She ran last night, I went to the pub... Ok, it's not a religion for me.

We got the running vests tonight, as modelled by me in the photo. They look good quality Ron Hill shirts. The flouro shirt is the one we were given, the one below is a base layer I bought at the weekend - its looking like being about 10c at the weekend in New York, so the vest won't be enough.

So, we fly on Friday, get there Friday night. Chill out Saturday and try not to trip over anything and get injured on the way to and from registration. Run on Sunday.

I don't know whether I'm looking forward to it or not. April is, but I'm a bit more sceptical about how much fun it will actually be!

Speaking of injury, David has pulled a hamstring. His physio reckons it is touch and go if he can run. Fingers crossed for him. It won't be the same if he doesn't run, especially after all this training.
Read his blog for more info.

21 Miles - hooorahhhhh

2010-10-30T09:44:00.000+01:00

April had managed to get me sufficiently motivated to go running today for a long run. It was the usual April Crazy Plan involving two forms of transport, two separate cities and some vague arrangement to meet somewhere at some indeterminate time and location. Logistics is not one of April's strong points. She has many many talents, but logistics is most definitely not one of them.

The plan, after many hours of debate, ended up as being: I drive April to Fosse Park in Leicester, she starts running down the railway and river to Loughborough. I drive to Loughborough, find somewhere to park, and then run along the canal and the river in the opposite direction and we hopefully meet in the middle, at about 10 miles, and then run back to the car.

I made some copies of the relevant copies of the Ordnance Survey map of the area, as I could see this going wrong already!

I duly dropped her off, drove to Loughborough, went to Tesco and picked up some energy drinks and filled my backpack (April had stolen my camelback) and headed off.

The route started for about two miles on path, then onto canal bank. Both nice and flat. Then I followed the river and the terrain turned into uneven river bank, churned up by cows and made boggy by the overnight rain. The going was heavy, my legs were tiring quickly, but I pushed on. IPod in my ears, listening to podcasts. April and I eventually met via use of mobile phone's and maps. The task of meeting was made difficult by the fact the canal and river was closed for certain stretches. April had taken to the road, and I'd taken to cross-country.
A quick drink and a chat, and we headed back. We got back to Loughborough by retracing my route, which I'd slightly extended to try and get to 20 miles. When I got to twenty miles, I decided that I wanted to do just one more mile. My legs were heavy from the distance and the terrain, but I pushed myself to do it. This is what the marathon will feel like at the end, exhausted but needing to push on. I wanted to teach my body what it feels like, so its not scared when it happens. I got one more mile in at a slow slow pace. Its a shame it takes 4 hours of running to get to this stage, I want to be able to do the endurance bit without the 20 miles before it!
April did 23 miles.

I felt happy with this. For the first time I'd cracked 20 miles. Although exhausted I felt much happier, and raised out of my depression of the last few days. I actually feel like I can finish the marathon now. For the first time I genuinely believe it.

Wheels fallen off

2010-10-15T16:01:00.062+01:00

Today the wheels well and truly fell off. They've been wobbly for a while now, but they finally dropped off today, and rolled away down the hill.

This challenge, the NY Marathon, has been different to the other two. For me the challenge in the other two didn't really start until we landed in the relevant country and we could divert our full attention to it. The going didn't really get tough until we were on the mountains. Sure, there was lots of training, but not excessive. I could still run a normal life pretty much. Plus the evenings were light longer, so they felt roomy, plenty of time for being out and about walking or running.
For the marathon its all a bit different. Training is now five, sometimes six days a week.The nights are getting dark by the time we get home, so I'm trying to get home as quickly as possible after work, change and get out so I can run in twighlight before it gets dark. There is only one street through the village, constituting half a mile (if you run it in both directions), after dark training is non existent.
After running, I get showered and changed. We'll then spend an hour making dinner, eating dinner. Next thing you know its 10.30pm. Next day repeat. Work, run, eat, bed.
Five miles recovery run on Monday, Tuesday 7 or 8, Wednesday 6 fast miles, Thursday 10, Friday slow 5 miles, Saturday 15 miles. I dunno, I'm making it up - but this is the sort of program.

I feel like all the challenge for this challenge is in the training. Hopefully the marathon day, although very tough, will be just a formality of running for 26 miles. The challenge for me at the moment is holding some semblance of a life together while doing all of this training.
I think if it had just been the marathon, or just been the other challenges I could have held it together. But taking such an extended period out of one's social life is difficult for me, putting home life into stasis. We moved into this house in June and, other than a brief flurry in August aided greatly by my parents, we've done nothing to it. There are still large piles of unopened boxes lying around reminding me to get my act together and sort it out.
I'm also sick of being constantly tired, every day waking up with stiff legs and ankles, taking me twenty paces before I stop walking like a rigid legged robot. My one or two rest days a week spent recovering rather than doing anything useful.
On top of all the stuff above, and all of the other issues with the training, the other thing that is getting me down is my knee. I am now tired of being in constant pain.

All of this culminated into making me exceedingly grumpy yesterday and today, and a little temper-tantrum if I'm honest. Thankfully my amazing wife managed to once again drag me out of the depths of despair and get me back on my feet, literally. By dragging me back out on the road again.

Leicester Half Marathon

2010-10-09T16:42:00.007+01:00

April and I did the Leicester Half Marathon today, and both posted good times of 1h55

I was aiming for 2h15, so to come in at under two hours is good for me, and I'm really happy. We started off trying to keep a 9 minute mile pace, to be reasonably representative of what we might do in the real marathon (except that I'll be doing 9.30 in the real thing probably). After about 10 miles we started speeding up and by the time we got to 11.5 miles, with just over a mile and a half to go, we really stepped up the pace and ended up with a sprint finish between April and me.
I narrowly won, but only by virtue of the fact I snook up on her and I've got longer legs.

The marathon was great practice for me, in terms of understanding what it will be like on the day.

For a start, we arrived about 90 minutes before the race, so there was a lot of standing around in the cold. Its going to be even colder in NY, and a lot of people advise taking throwaway fleeces to keep warm at the start line.

Once the race was underway, it is difficult for the first couple of miles to keep any sort of sensible pace. Walking for a start, then as people spread out and speed up you are constantly tripping over people's feet, and trying to pick a clear line through people. For the first mile we only managed about 12.30 minutes per mile. This thins out over the next couple of miles, though and you can settle on a pace.

The other key thing was that in the city centre, and when running through the woodland areas, the Garmin GPS sometimes had issues with getting GPS signal. This meant that the pace reading was a bit all over the place sometimes. Mostly however, the GPS is a great aid to keeping the right pace.

All in all, it was a good test, and I'll begrudgingly admit that I enjoyed it...but don't tell anyone.

Its exactly a month to the day to the New York Marathon. Scary times. I need to get a couple of long runs in over the next two weeks (20+milers) and then start to taper. The tapering sounds good, the 20+ mile runs do not.

April at about half-way

Many thanks to my parents for coming along to support us. It was great to see them at the finish line and half way through.

Knee Research

2010-09-29T20:04:00.000+01:00

I've been doing a bit of research into this damn confounded knee to see if there is anything I can do about it.
The closest injury I can find that matches my symptoms is Patellofemoral Pain Syndrome.

http://www.physioroom.com/injuries/knee/patellofemoral_maltracking_full.php

Although it is comforting to have a name for the pain, it doesn't really help me with what to do to treat it. The suggestion of a knee brace I have already tried, maybe if I buy a better quality one I will have better luck. I'm willing to try anything at this stage.

I think I will also put more time into warming up the upper leg muscles and glutes to see if this makes a difference.

Last Week's Progress

2010-09-29T20:00:00.001+01:00

Marathon training is in full swing now, with just five weeks to go.
I am seriously concerned about my ability to run the marathon, but more on that later.

On Saturday I managed 12.5 miles.This sounds ok, but I should be running 20 miles by now (April ran 21 miles on Saturday).

This week was a bit low key because I was still recovering from Kilimanjaro (or at least my knee was) and I haven't been feeling particularly well.
The fitness side of things I'm not too bothered about. I felt like I could have easily managed another 3+ miles after the 12.5 miles (and indeed we played 18 holes of golf after running), but my knee is causing me serious issues at present.
On Saturday my knee was giving me some pain from the start up to 3.5 miles. I stopped at a junction and the knee gave way and I slowly crumpled to a yelping heap on the side of the road. I got up and continued running, and after a while the pain gave way to a manageable numbness either from the painkillers I had taken earlier or due to pain override. Either way the pain didn't get significantly worse for the remaining 9 miles.
This leads me to the thought that I may be able to just run through the knee pain if I am stacked up on pain killers, but realistically could I have managed another 13.5 miles at that pain level? No I don't think so.
The other issue is that I end up over compensating with my right leg for the lack of mobility in my left leg which ends up making my right leg tire earlier.

This week I have so far run:
Monday: 4 miles, slow pace recovery run. Knee pain level 6/10
Tuesday: 5 miles fast paced. Knee pain level 7/10

This is worrying to me, especially on Tuesday as my knee was in pain from the start. In an attempt to reduce the pain level I have taken a rest day today and plan to to do another 5 miles tomorrow. Friday or Saturday I am planning on doing a longer run. I hope to cover at least 15 miles.

Back to the Marathon training

2010-09-25T07:27:00.001+01:00

With Kilimanjaro already a fading memory it is with some reluctance that I have had to turn my attention back too the marathon. The two challenges that I was really interested in have been completed successfully and now I have to focus on the one I am really really not looking forward to.

Prior to Kilimanjaro I had managed to run 15 miles as the longest distance. After 12 miles my left knee was in such severe agony that I had to virtually limp the last few miles at a slow jog, barely faster than a fast walk.
I was hoping that a few days off before going to Africa and then no running for a week in Africa would give my knee chance to settle down. However, I went out running on Wednesday with April and did a fast 3.5 miles, after which my knee was pretty painful.
I didn't run on Thursday due to the monsoon and lightning that seemed to have descended on Thornton, with cloud formations, colours and light that seemed quite apocalyptic. After the rain, and then the hail, we saw a frog making a run for it across the garden. I wondered if it was a scaled down end-of-the-world plague, or it was too wet even for frogs.

Friday, I ran 4 miles, at a fast pace. Again, my knee hurt after 3 miles, but I pushed through to 4.

Today, Saturday, April is doing a 21 mile run. I'm joining her for the second half ten miles. A slower pace so hopefully less knee anguish. Its 7am and April has already gone.

With a month to go, I'm extremely concerned about my knee. The referral by my GP to a specialist hasn't materialised so I think I will try and book some time with a physio or at a sports injury clinic.

There is no bruising or swelling or any external signs. It just feels like someone is pulling my kneecap off, putting my knee in a vice or hammering rusty nails into my knee, depending on how far I push it.

Porter

2010-09-19T15:12:00.000+01:00

David decides to apply for a Porter's job. Unfortunately he's still there pinned down. I'll rescue him soon.

The ethics of tourist tat

2010-09-19T14:53:00.000+01:00

Am I supporting the local economy or encouraging underpaid labour by buying tourist trinkets? I decided it was the latter, so sorry April, no present.

We went to a local market in Arusha to kill some time and for David to buy a fridge magnet. The first shop we went in had largely the same products as the hotel shop. The prices were cheaper, but it looked the same.
The next stall we went in had basically the same stuff. So did the next, and the next. The pressure to buy from the stall holders was intense, guaranteeing to beat the price of the other stall holders. We wandered between the stalls in the oppressive, dry midday heat. Stepping into the small, shed sized booths, crammed with wooden animals, pot containers, leather this, metal that. If you can think of it and it was something to do with Africa, they had it. But every stall had the same. If it had been unique, hand crafted by the artisan stall holder, then I'd have considered buying.

There were rows of tiny alleys with dozens of stalls, each with a vendor trying to lure you in and trap you. Venture down one of these alleys and you may never return. Luckily their attention was diverted from us when some American tourists turned up. 'look at this, it's amazing, it's so beautiful' one naive woman proclaimed loudly. Lambs to the slaughter.

I looked at a stall selling paintings, I liked them. I nearly bought one. Two stalls down they had the exact same painting. No uniqueness there, no-one's time, effort and passion.

So what are you buying? I imagined a room, a sweat shop, full of kids and women, making trinkets as fast as possible. Working long hours in desperate conditions for a few Tanzanian shillings a piece. This put me off. It may not be accurate but its the vision I had.

The items looked good on the surface, but delve below this and it's not quite right. Not finished properly, not good quality materials. I looked at a little heart shaped pot, quite nice and pretty. I picked it up and checked it out, the felt liner was not quite cut right. I checked another. This time the green felt liner wasn't quite glued in.
I checked the other dozen or so, each one defective in some way. Would I want this in my house? No. Would I want to receive this as a present? No. Consequently I couldn't give it as a present.

And this to me is Tanzania all over. A lot of things look good on the surface, they look real. But look below the surface and they aren't. People wear suits walking down the street, going to work or church. But look closely and the suit is over a vest or tatty shirt.
Take this hotel, it looks nice and up market. From the outside it looks like just the kind of place you'd want to stay to relax after climbing a mountain. Unfortunately the food is poor, mediocre at best. The service is poor, and all about the tips. The room looks nice, but the shower is heath-robinson, the sockets not properly attached to the wall, the windows don't shut and so on.

Events appear to be well organised. But scratch the surface and you'll find a dozen people running around like headless chickens barely holding it together.
Efficiency is not an appropriate word here.

accountant's logic

2010-09-19T11:47:00.000+01:00

We went to the hotel souvenir shop, but left before we got ripped off. Things were very pricey, compared to the price of things on the street. I think the breaking point was when she wanted to charge us 22 dollars for two fridge magnets. It wouldn't be so bad, but you know the person who made them got less than 50 cents.

So now we are paying 20 dollars for a taxi into town so we can find some slightly cheaper ones...

Death by Dangerous Driving

2010-09-19T10:44:00.000+01:00

The journey from Marangu gate to the hotel was interesting, in a very scary way. There don't appear to be any traffic laws in Tanzania, other than 'overtake whatever, whenever' at one point we were stuck behind a petrol tanker, going up a hill, the truck front of us got bored and pulled out and crawled past the tanker. The motorcyclist coming the other way didn't seem to find escaping with his life by about six feet too concerning.

At another point we were behind a truck. A Toyota Landcruiser was overtaking on the right, a bike was overtaking the Landcruiser. A bus was overtaking the truck on the left, on the verge. Four vehicles wide on a single carriageway road. A 4x4 started to overtake us. We are going to die, I was sure.

Luckily we didn't.

Last day on the Mountain

2010-09-19T10:31:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was the simple job of six hours of hiking down from Horombo to the Marangu Gate park exit.
Six hours walking. Just what my legs needed after yesterday, my knee was not going to enjoy it one bit.

But before that we had breakfast (porridge, toast, sausage, egg) where we had to discuss the Tipping Ceremony. At the start of the trip, in the previous hotel, we'd been given a sheet that gave amounts to tip the various 39 porters, in a sliding scale according to their seniority. We were told to nominate an accountant who would collect the money and do a speech.
This nomination was carried out by everyone disappearing and leaving the sheet of paper on the table. David was last man standing, and was duly nominated. He tried to get out of it for the rest of the week, but there were no takers.

The tipping is 'optional'. Optional in the same way that breathing is optional. The fact that we were given explicit instructions by the Chief Guide, Charles, and a sheet explaining what to do and how much to give, and (here's the clincher) that there is a tipping ceremony all indicated it was not at all optional.

We ribbed David for a few hours over dinner and breakfast on his role, and his speech he had to give, carrying on until the joke became thin. Then ribbed him some more.
We gave David our tip money, 100USD each, and washed our hands of the process. Only Anna felt any sympathy and helped him count the money. From now on we were spectators.

The tipping ceremony consisted of all of the porters singing us a Kilimanjaro song, of which the only recognisable words were Kilimanjaro and Akunamatata, and then standing there while we doled out the tips. Out of the 39 porters that were allegedly helping us, we had only ever seen about half that many. At the tipping ceremony, we saw about 24. Something fishy...?
David duly gave his speech, and handed out the tips, which seemed to be gratefully received. An ordinary porter gets about 60 USD for the week's work, so a 25 dollar tip on top is significant. I gave our guides that took us up the mountain an extra 10 dollars each, so did Ed and David. And two spare dollars went to the lady who had carried both our bags. She seemed happy.

Trivial amounts of money to me, significant to them. Disturbing, really.

The tipping ceremony over, we had a group photo. A porter from a different camp was dragged over to take the photos, and suddenly a dozen cameras were planted on him. The porters sang the Kilimanjaro song again, during the whole of which the befuddled porter didn't even manage to take one picture. I think he was just wowed by the fact that he could see all his friends on a little screen, mesmerized with an inane grin on his face. Head Guide Charles soon tired off this and grabbed the cameras and rattled the photos off.
All done. Lets Go. Twende twende. Said Charles.

Off we went. Climbing at first, then descending. My knee hurt a lot, I tried not to complain: Russell was far worse off than me. We trudged our way through yet more dust. Sick of it by now. We tried to stick with Russ, but eventually the guides made us leave him. One of the guides stayed with Russ.

Ed, david and I marched on to catch the group. We caught them at the rest stop. We didn't get a rest, the group moved on as we arrived. Three hours we walked until lunch, through some spectacular scenery.

We ate lunch at Mandara, 2700 metres. Mandara is like a small village, Swiss Chalets, with dining rooms and bunks. Running water and real flushing toilets. Luxury. This is how the other half trek Kilimanjaro: clean, showered, well fed and well rested. But I liked our camping.

By this time we'd lost Johnny and Tobey. No surprise there, they were always in between. Not at the front, or the back. Just there, or not. Presumably off chasing a Honey Badger, or whatever it was they had been looking for all week. Good guys, I like them. They didn't turn up, so Said headed down the mountain at a pace and we headed down with Nelson. I walked with Karren for a while, and she gave me some good advice for my knees.
Eventually I was in sufficient pain I just wanted to get down the mountain. I marched off at the front, clattering my way down with my poles. I chased Nelson down, looking following his big yellow rucksack, imagining it was a giant Banana Beer.

We made it down, and signed out of the national park. And then Heaven, the crappy little gift shop sold beer. I had one, then another. And another. At 2 dollars each why not.

Russell's arrived in his Taxi, a Landrover from half way down. He looked knackered, but smiling. He hugged David, and headed for a beer.

We found Tobey and Johnny. They'd taken a shortcut! Where was that?!
Tobey played with giant ants that had hitched a ride down on his boots.
He tried to make them fight, they didn't seem keen.

We found Armando and Carmen. Somehow they had commandeered a ride down. Money talks.

We laid around for half an hour or so, resting weary legs. We received our certificates, which were promptly taken away. People loitered around, eyeing up our gear. Yet again we were having to keep an eye on our kit. I hate the dark side of Tanzania. You can't trust anyone here - everyone is smiles and politeness on the surface, but always ready to rip you off as soon as you look the other way.

The gift show was a joke. There were things in there that were many years old, or completely irrelevant to Kilimanjaro. Great if you wanted to know what the world records were a few years ago, or wanted to learn French in 21 days, but not if you wanted some actual souvenirs. I bought a map.
They don't really have the tourism trade nailed here.

Jelly Baby Success on Africa's Highest Mountain

2010-09-19T08:28:00.000+01:00

Please join me in congratulating these Jelly Babies in scaling Kilimanjaro, Africa's highest mountain. Four Jelly Babies made it: Baby Vistas, Baby Hillary, Baby Bonnington and Sherpa Baby Tensing. There was one casualty unfortunately, Baby Mallory was squished during the ascent. His body will be donated to the greater good of my stomach.

I'm sure you'll agree it was a fantastic achievement.

proof of summit

2010-09-18T18:36:00.000+01:00

Ok, my name is spelled wrong. But it is me, honest.

stage 3 failure

2010-09-18T18:28:00.000+01:00

No steak. Very disappointed. Will have to make do with Lamb Noisettes. Its meat at least. I need meat.

beer

2010-09-18T18:00:00.000+01:00

Stage 1 complete. Beer found and consumed (x3) at the Marangu Hut.

shower

2010-09-18T17:59:00.000+01:00

Stage 2 complete. Showered. Feel much better, but not clean. Can't shift this volcanic grime from my skin!

The shower in the room looks like it is out of a school changing room. Basic is an overstatement.

safely down

2010-09-17T12:37:00.000+01:00

David and I are safely down, Russ is still up there, we passed him on the way down, just below Gilman Point, the edge of the Crater. I really hope russ makes it.

Now, David, me, Ed and Karren are at the final camp. Having walked the 2 hours from the Kibo camp. We are just sitting around because its early afternoon and there is nothing whatsoever to do.

We are absolutely filthy. Everything is ingrained with volcanic dust. At the moment I am looking forward to a beer, a shower and a steak, in that order. But there is no chance of that.
We've been wearing the same clothes for a week now, and we really just want to get changed and clean.

We started the climb at midnight, heading up the switchbacks up the side of the volcano. It was pitch dark and icy cold. We started as a group, but progress was slow because everyone wanted to stop to pee, rest, eat at different times. We also kept getting snarled up with other groups on the mountain. Shortly after we reached the height of Mont Blanc, 4800m, we split into 3 groups that I know of. Russ had already dropped behind into his own group, and David, Ed and I broke away into a fast group. I don't normally like splitting teams, but we were getting nowhere and becoming very cold.
We climbed the steep trail at a strong pace, arriving at Gilman's Point at 5am. This marks the end of the main climb, and the start of the traverse around the circumference of the volcano, or at least a third to half of it. We had a quick cup of tea from flasks the guides carried, and then started the traverse. It was still dark, and now very very cold. We felt strong, but were feeling the effects of the altitude. Breathing much more heavily: in, step, out, step. By now I was wearing everything. Two pairs of gloves, two thermal tops, a fleece, waterproof jacket and my down jacket. I was still cold, Ed was colder. We kept moving.

The first bit of the traverse is fairly level, even down hill in sections. This gave us a welcome respite.
Ed was sick shortly after setting off. I ate some chocolate while he did this. We continued. Daylight was starting to break. By the time we rounded the crater to the side with the glaciers and the summit, in a clockwise direction, the sun was beginning to rise. I don't think I've ever seen such a spectacular sunrise in all my life. Half the sky was lined with red and orange around the horizon. The sun slowly rose above the clouds and lit everything in daylight. In the 20 minutes or so it took from there to the summit, the sun had risen and daylight was upon us. Head torches were dispensed with. The last section to the summit is a scramble around boulders and rocks and a reasonable climb to the summit.

We passed several people on the way who had already submitted, but not many. Though a one legged man had beaten us by at least 20 minutes. We got to the summit at 6.36 to see the sunrise finale, and it was amazing. We messed around taking photos for a while and then headed off - it was still absolutely freezing. Our clothes, rucksack and boots were covered in a sheen of ice. My drinking water was frozen. Ed struck off, we followed. I faffed taking photos with my broken camera, hoping something might come out.

The altitude was affecting me a little. I didn't get to out of breath, and I felt strong. But I did suffer a headache and some loss of coordination. Every so often I'd lose half a second or so, and mis place a foot. I had to concentrate doubly hard, which was making my head hurt more. I used my walking poles to help. The headache I put down to dehydration due to frozen water. In the whole ten hours of the climb I only drank 1.5 litres. I had carried nearly 4.

We rewound back round the crater, and descended from Gilman's point. Ed was on a mission. On the flat sections I could easily keep up or catch him. On the downhill my knee let me down, and Ed marched on. We didn't pass any of our team on the traverse, and didn't see anyone until we saw Rus ten minutes below Gilman's point. They must have taken a different route around the crater.
The descent is the reverse of the ascent. scramble down the boulders and rocks, and then down the scree. The switchbacks on the scree could be shortcutted by heading straight down, sliding down the scree. Ed shot off, followed by David. I tried to follow but my knee collapsed almost immediately, and caused me absolute agony to bend it. I was left hobbling down while David and Ed shot off to camp. Thankfully our guide Siaid stuck with me to offer morale support. I arrived back at camp at around 1015am, about 15 minutes after Ed and David. They were already in their tents. I saw Karren, who had returned after 5000m, a great achievement. Higher than Mont Blanc. We chatted briefly, then Karren left. I sat on a rock for a while, I wasn't especially tired, so I ate and drank for while. I got bored and crashed out in the tent. I chatted briefly with David, and then lay there for 40 minutes, before falling asleep for around 20 minutes. I packed my bag, had lunch with David and Ed, and then left for tonight's camp, another three hours walk. We walked fast, and turned it into a two hour walk. I walked like an old man with my pole as a walking stick. Occasionally I'd catch a rock and send a searing pain through my knee, overpowering the paracetomol and ibuprofen I'd taken. Sometimes I'd manage not to swear, other times I wouldn't. The trail is the one that heads off to the right on the photo, from the Kibo camp.
And here I am, sat in a camping chair.

Kilimanjaro was an achievement, I am very proud of doing it. It wasn't even half as hard as Mont Blanc, in terms of exertion or mental challenge. I felt strong on this throughout, apart from my knee. On Mont Blanc I constantly felt at my limit.
But this climb had it's challenges too. The camping and out door living. The fact it is a five day climb. The brutal sun, and arctic nights. The never ending dust.
The mountains were both special in very different ways.

Now I'm looking forward to getting back to April, my family and friends. And that beer, shower and steak.

made it...

2010-09-17T05:56:00.000+01:00

0636. Knackered. Fantastic. David and I together. Just passing russ on descent

alive

2010-09-16T23:25:00.001+01:00

David checks he's still alive. Thankfully he is, there weren't many volunteers to carry him or give him the kiss of life

oh what a beautiful morning

2010-09-16T23:25:00.000+01:00

Beautiful morning, very cold through the night, hot now the sun is up...

Everyone looking a lot better.

end of day 3

2010-09-16T23:24:00.000+01:00

We are now at the base of Mawenzi, sitting in our tents getting ready for tomorrow.

This morning we treked for about 5 hours from last night's camp up the increasingly steep terrain and ultimately up the switchbacks to the top of the ridge overlooking the camp.

The fitness we have gained from the marathon training is paying dividends for me; although I found it strenuous, I didn't find it exhausting at all. To me it felt like climbing Scafell, tough but ok.

So far I've been immune from altitude sickness, but I did suffer from a bit of an upset stomach earlier, gurgle-belly as April would call it, but a trip to the toilet cured that.
Others have been suffering from an upset stomach too, and variously they have blamed the water, Diamox (the altitude sickness treatment drug) and the food. A lot of jumping to unfounded conclusions if you ask me, personally I think the heat, change of diet or pure physical exertion are more likely causes. So people are now taking Immodium, using water treatments and using other lotion and potions.

The water we drink comes from streams on the mountain, or other natural water sources. The water today comes from the pool you can see in the photo, which is admittedly somewhat stagnant. The guide gave us a choice of how we wanted to treat the water, at the start of the trip: boil or chemical. I pushed for boiling, and thankfully we went for that. The water is boiled for 30 minutes, which is enough to kill almost anything, and is filtered too. But people are still getting scared off if they find any particles in the water. I've drunk from much more dubious supplies when camping in my youth, both here and in places like Argentina.
I've always been brought up to eat what's in front of me, and that's what I've always done. Here, I've been eating like a horse, devouring probably twice as much food as normal. Eating and drinking as much as possible is the key to success here.

Camp is at 4330 metres. After arriving here we had an hour or two to chill out and then we headed off for an acclimitisation walk. We reached 4550 metres, climbing up some steep terrain. At the top I had a play with the oxygen meter, testing some of us and comparing to the guides. The guides are clearly much more used to the altitude than we are, as you'd expect. My oxygen saturation (spO2) was around 85% max, and pulse around 110. As a guide my resting figures in the UK are 99% and 45 respectively. The guides we tested were in the high 80s and 90s, with pulses of 70 to 100, from memory.
Throughout the trip David and I have been monitoring levels, and getting others to join in too. David's levels have been higher than mine, as have Ed's. Russ's have been lower, typically. Speaking of AMS, there are now just three of us not using Diamox: me, Ed and Russ. I'm surprised people have resorted to it so quickly. But, I guess, whatever it takes to get you up the mountain. Anna was trying out her Oxygen on the acclimitisation walk. Anna has a legitimate reason for Diamox and O2 as she has circulation problems, though personally I think she will find carrying 3 kilos of O2 on top of her 5-10 kilo pack consumes more energy than she gains. Her spO2 levels haven't really given any indication that she requires it.

I've enjoyed today, the people on the trek are great fun, with good sense of humours. There's lots of banter to keep morale up.

It's cold tonight, no idea what temperature, but its the coldest yet. Gloves, jackets and hats are required at night for moving around camp, unless you are Ed (Bear Grills I call him) when flip flops are the order off the day.
Its cold enough to make me reluctant to get out of the tent for a pee anyway.

The plant life has all but disappeared now, just sporadic grass tufts and heather, or the add prickly something or other. There is a bit more around this watering hole, but mostly the landscape resembles something you'd expect to see on Mars: Dry and dusty rock strewn hills. The black volcanic dust is relentless. My arms, hands, nails are so ingrained with it I can't remove it with any amount of soap or scrubbing. My face is probably the same, but since I haven't seen it for a few days I can't say for sure.

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow, the penultimate day before summit day.

end of day 4

2010-09-16T23:23:00.001+01:00

Today we crossed from Mawenzi Tarnished across the Lunar Desert and 'the saddle' to where we are now, the Kibo Hut.
The Kibo Hut is actually a number of huts: a national park registration hut; a weather station; and some miscellaneous buildings. Kibo is base camp for the ascent of this side of Kilimanjaro, consequently it is quite a busy site, with groups either preparing to ascend, like us, or having descended and preparing to leave.

Today's trek was much shorter than anticipated. We left at 8am ish, and arrived at just before 2pm. David and I, along with Ed stuck with Russ. The slow pace was fine for us, we were in no rush. Russ was looking strong for a lot of the trip today, which is great to see, but struggled on the last mile or two drag uphill. He had a game plan in his head, and we plodded our way up.

I felt fit as a fiddle. I was tired at the end, but felt like I could have walked for a lot longer. I was barely getting out of breath. I developed a bit of a headache this afternoon, but I'm pretty sure that was from the strong sun and dehydration.

The Lunar Desert is aptly named, a big plain with rocks and boulders of varying dimensions strewn across it. Very dry and dusty, virtually no vegetation or signs of life. We spent the whole day crossing this saddle between Mawenzi and Kibo, we could see our destination the whole time. It started as a dot on the side of Kilimanjaro, and over the hours grew into something discernible as man-made, and ultimately into something recognisable as a building. Crossings like this can be soul destroying, walking for hours in the brutal sun with no change in landscape. Mental capacity is key. We walked as a team, chatting from time to time to keep spirits up. Conversation inevitably runs dry from time to time; we've been together for 6 days now, and talked about pretty much everything in the long hours together. We wait for events to happen to generate jokes, banter or conversation.

A plane wreck by the trail, at the bottom of the saddle, gave us something to do for 10 minutes. It was a small prop plane that had crashed three years ago. Judging by the wreckage there weren't many survivors. We played around, climbing on it, lifting bits. I smashed my camera. Back to the trail.

We met a Canadian couple yesterday on our acclimitisation walk. They are on honeymoon. We passed them again today. 'Enjoying your honeymoon?' asked Russ. 'yes' they replied. 'after ten years of marriage you get to do this on your own' said Russ. On we trudged.

Now, I'm sitting in my tent. We've had lunch, then a snooze, then dinner. It's 7pm, we leave for the summit at midnight, getting up at 11pm. We've packed our gear for tomorrow, and we're wearing our clothes for a quick getaway. Now we are supposed to sleep for a few hours.

David's packing is just as entertaining as always. He's lying next to me trying to sleep, but I guarantee within five minutes he'll sit upright and say 'oh crap, you know what?'. 'No' I'll probably say. 'I haven't packed my widget' or something similar. I'm sure my packing is just as entertaining. I pack quickly, but badly. It consists of putting everything in a pile, and allocating it to one bag or another. Inevitability I'll leave something lying around, and David will come over to me just before we leave and say 'do you need this?'.
In such a small tent it is impressively easy to lose things. I'll put my Ipod down and pick up my phone. Two minutes later I'll go to pick up my Ipod and it will have moved mysteriously. 5 minutes of faffing later and I'll find it, about 5cm from where I was looking. Large amounts of time are wasted like this.

Its cold already, ice was forming on the tent at around 6pm. It will be well below zero when we leave tonight.

We haven't had any phone signal for two days now and I'm missing speaking to April a lot now. Apparently there is signal at the summit, so hopefully I can make a call then. It would be good to send a message to my parents to let them know I'm alive too.

summit day

2010-09-16T23:23:00.000+01:00

Set off for the summit at midnight. 8 or 9 hours to get there if all goes well.

Its dark, very cold and steep gravely terrain. Luckily its too dark to see what's to come.

Just keep plodding. Onwards and upwards.

Wish us luck.

end of day 4

2010-09-16T23:04:00.000+01:00

alive

2010-09-15T07:10:00.001+01:00

David checks he's still alive. Thankfully he is, there weren't many volunteers to carry him or give him the kiss of life

end of day 2

2010-09-15T07:10:00.000+01:00

Today was a nine hour hike to our campsite, with the terrain roughly divided into two types before and after lunch.

This morning was fairly demanding, but not overly, being much steeper than yesterday. David and I felt comfortable on this because it was much less steep and technical than Mont Blanc, and a much slower pace. Everyone seemed to cope ok, in fact. The dust was still a nuisance and was congealing on sun screen and sweat to form a black covering over exposed skin. The brownish dust of the first day has turned to grey / black volcanic residue. By the end of the day we would resemble coal miners. What this is doing to our lungs I dread to think.

This afternoon was less steep, but considerably more rocky. We followed the undulating path through scrub and heather, picking our way between rocks and boulders, and wound around rocky outcrops of long since solidified volcanic rock.
Our trail rose and fell, reaching an apex of 3700m, then fell more than rose to our camp at 3600m.

The temperature has fallen sharply since dinner, and is already below zero, ice forming on the tent and on David's towel he left out. A sharp contrast to the formidable heat of this morning.

We are well into acute mountain sickness (AMS) altitudes now, which can start at 3000m. Presently I am unaffected, but I'm keeping an eye on my condition. Others are beginning to suffer with the altitude, whether it is the lack of oxygen, the lower air pressure or the side affects. Symptoms start as simple headaches that won't go away with painkillers, nausea and loss of appetite. Dehydration is a contributing factor, and the hot dusty conditions won't have helped.
Sleeplessness is common, as are more vivid dreams and even hallucinations, mountain delirium.
Dehydration, loss of appetite and less sleep cause exacerbate the condition by reducing the body's fuel and recovery: a downward spiral.
I am worried about two of our Russ and Karren. Both confessed to struggling today, and both are showing signs of AMS. Neither of them ate nearly enough this evening, though Russ is drinking a lot. I think Russ is strong enough to complete this, provided he manages his condition. Karren, I have my doubts.

The porters and some of us carry drugs to help with this, Diamox for example. But this has its own side effects. At least two people are already taking it.

Tomorrow is a shorter day, 4 to 5 hours including acclimitisation walks. But it will be much steeper than today. The extra physical exertion and lower oxygen levels will be more telling, and I'd expect we will all show signs of AMS. Tomorrow, I think, will give us a good indication of who will make it to the summit.

day 2

2010-09-14T12:44:00.000+01:00

David prays to the mountain god of Kilimanjaro

'please let me make it, I promise I'll be a good boy from now on'

lunch

2010-09-14T12:43:00.000+01:00

At lunch, David showed off his manly chest to Karren.
Hasselhoff eat your heart out.

Shortly after he was seen manicuring his nails. No joke.

lunch

2010-09-14T12:42:00.000+01:00

Another outstanding lunch. Soup, followed by corned beef and vegetable salad.

The porters had set up a tent for us to shelter from the sun. Very civilised.

We are at 'Second Cave', a natural stone cave en route to Mawenzi, where we camp tonight. Mawenzi is the second peak of Kilimanjaro, but is rarely climbed because it is very technical.
This morning was hard, but ok. Still very dusty. I tried my walking poles, but couldn't really figure out what they were for apart from giving my hands something to do.

This morning the peak was bathed in orange sunlight, but the clouds have been rolling in and out with some speed since. Visibility is currently 200 metres, it was 50 miles into Kenya earlier.

hot hot hot

2010-09-14T06:45:00.000+01:00

Now the sun is up it is super hot. Started walking now, 3 hours til lunch, passed one group of girls already

first light...

2010-09-14T06:42:00.000+01:00

...and first view of our mountain. Its a glorious morning, with bright sunshine. Its cold, but ok.

Morning wash wash done, breakfast next then we are off.

Day 1

2010-09-14T06:41:00.002+01:00

The end of day 1, its 8.30pm and we are in our tent.
I'm in my sleeping bag tucked up writing this, David is packing his various bags.

Today was a good warm up day, just strenuous enough to feel it, but not exhausting by any means.

We started off at around ten in the morning, after receiving our packed lunch allocation. David, Russ, Karren, Anna and I bundled into a Landrover typical of every Landrover I have ever been in. Ragged seats fixed with gaffa tape, windows and doors that don't shut properly and non existent heating and cooling. But for rough terrain, there's not much else I would rather be in. I've seen and been in Landrovers over some incredible terrain and I trust them, in the right hands.
Our driver, Colin Macrea's african cousin, sped us along the dirt road from the hotel that wound it's way between small village after small village. Interspersed where more banana plantations, seemingly condemned yet inhabited buildings and people. The people we passed mostly sat by the side of the road, or on the porch of their dilapidated dwellings or on heaps of stones or mud. They sometimes waved, but mostly stared into space. Children made up a significant number of the people. Some sat by piles of stones, gradually turning them into other piles of smaller stones with a hammer. Some picked dirt out of drains, others just carried sticks. A few played with home made toys: a dustbin lid hit by a stick, a cart made from a plank and some randomly selected wheels; the kind of thing my mother and father claimed to have played with when younger.

Other children, older, teens maybe, walked to school wearing uniform.

Occasionally we'd pass an aforementioned village. A shop, three barbers, a bar and some sort of hardware come woodworking come ironmongers was standard fayre. The bar was typically inhabited by shabbily dressed men who had been there since it opened, or possibly the day before. 'its Kili time!' the billboards, reminding people to drink the local brew 'Kilimanjaro Beer', and not a motivational cry to climb the mountain.

Some towns were bigger, with multi storey properties, and more signs of life. People on motorbikes congregated on corners, small markets were seen.

The road was dusty, very dusty. Everything within thirty metres either side was covered in a thick layer of the reddy brown dirt, thrown up into a permanent cloud by passing trucks and cars. People, property and plants, all brown. We closed the windows as tightly possible, but still we choked on the airbourne soil. But it was the locals we felt sorry for, breathing this in all day every day. I wondered how many minutes we taking of these people's lives by merely driving past them.

As we continued, after an hour or more, signs of road construction were evident in increasing quantity. Heavy machinery, and men working. Holes in the road big enough to lose trucks in were marked with thin tape or rope that was covered in road coloured dirt. We weaved to avoid them, sometimes taking to the verge. Buildings on the side of the road were marked with painted on red crosses, presumably designated for demolition to make way for the forthcoming road. People still lived in them.
Men did the work of machines. Labour is cheap, cheaper than metal machines that could do the work of one hundred men. They dug ditches, carried inconceivable loads, filled holes and leveled roads. Machines were reserved for the work men couldn't do.

Slowly the road turned into something we'd recognise as a road. Firstly a solid base, then Tarmac, then a grippy gravel surface, then white lines. We could breathe again.

A while later we arrived at the start point and disembarked into a shelter. We used the toilet, a French style pissoir and waited for further instruction. Nearby, porters talked and packed bags.
Some time later we signed into the National Park register, listened to a short briefing by the guide, picked up our things and head up into the forest.

The pace was very slow 'Pole Pole' (pronounced Poley Poley) said the guides, 'slow'. The track was dusty, and soon we we covered in the same red dust as the villagers. The whole day we walked through forests, forests that could just as easily have been anywhere in England. Tall trees, bushes, plants and flowers. None of the species recognisable to me, but not exotic and unfamiliar.

It was warm and humid, making sweat for the mud to stick to. Occasionally a clearing would allow a breeze to reach us and cool us down.

As we trudged our lethargic pace, porters frequently passed us laden with heavy packs on their backs, and bulky items balanced on their heads or necks.

We saw Colubus monkeys playing in the trees, swinging merrily from branch to branch. Or sitting lazily, watching us.

We ate lunch at a picnic table that was clearly the National Park designated lunching point. I looked up and realised the woodland had changed subtly. Now we were amongst red Woods, tea trees, yellow woods and olive trees. None of these familiar to me, of course, but they were adorned with hand painted signs for the education of lunching foreign ignoramouses.

Lunch was a bread and butter, out-of-date crisps, carrot sticks, a fun-size banana and some chocolate and biscuits. I had also liberated some spicy sausage at breakfast to add some interest to the bread and butter.

We continued for another couple of hours. The terrain became steeper and more rocky, and the forest turned to bush. Bracken and other bush plants flanked the path as we rose higher. Finally we cleared the trees and were able to see more than twenty metres. At points we could see vast distances, all the way to the plains of Kenya, or back to the dense plantations we had left earlier that day.
The Rongai route we are doing is no longer the original route through the Rongai Forest, our guide informed us later that evening. It was changed for the safety of trekkers to protect us from the buffalo, elephants and other wildlife that migrates to the forest uplands in times of drought on the plains.

We arrived at camp to find our green Vango Hurricane tents already pitched, and the porters constructing the rest of our camp. I was please to see the Vango tents, a good quality tent, other older variations of which I've use many times in some quite atrocious conditions.

A quick respite and then we were off again for our acclimitisation walk, a shorter walk up to higher altitude before returning to lower levels. For the first time since the hotel we got sporadic phone signal and most of us managed to get a text or mail to our loved ones. Its amazing how coveted that one small stretch of path was with signal, after the few hours without our technology fix. 'what did we do before mobile phones' asked Steffan. 'when was that?' was the response 'shall I Wiki it?'
We marked the point on the trail with a stick broken from the bush. We'd try another message in the morning, another technology fix. Even the guides had mobile phones. Phones from the 90s, but phones nontheless. And they would outlast our modern glitzy contraptions by another decade no doubt.

On return to camp we were given a bowl of warm water to wash in. We stripped to the waste and washed as much of the thick dust off as possible. We blew black grit from our noses and brushed it from our hair.

A short relaxation period to sort our bedding out was followed by dinner. A three course extravaganza.
An indeterminate but tasty soup to start, with bread and butter. Battered fish, roast potatoes, boiled spinach and vegetable stew for main, and papaya fruit for desert. All washed down with a gallon of tea, coffee or chocolate.

We ate in a mess tent, with folding camp chairs and trestle tables. The tent was a modern material version of the Iceland tents I remember from camping as a scout. The heavy construction of wooden poles, canvas tent and rope guys was replaced with metal poles, thin plastic tent and lightweight nylon guy ropes.

Meanwhile our water bottles were refilled with stream water boiled by the cooks, and returned to us.

Our head guide then briefed on tomorrow's activities. Rise at 6.30, breakfast at 7, leave by 7.30. six hours walking on steeper terrain.
He showed us our route on an ageing (but serviceable) 1:62500 scale map, held together with parcel tape. The contours got close through tomorrow morning, but spread out in the afternoon. Steep, followed by less steep.

With that knowledge imparted, we headed off to our tents through the now dark campsite. Some packing, some faffing and some witty banter between tents followed. But now the campsite is silent. In the hour or so it has taken to write this the banter has stopped to be replaced by the sound of crickets and the murmur of porters voices. People either sleep, read or listen to music.

For me, it's my IPod, then sleep. Tonight I'll listen to my audio book about disasters on K2, the worlds second highest, but most dangerous, mountain. I'll imagine I was there, and be thankful I'm here.

first light...

2010-09-14T06:41:00.001+01:00

...and first view of our mountain. Its a glorious morning, with bright sunshine. Its cold, but ok.

Morning wash wash done, breakfast next then we are off.

end of day one

2010-09-14T06:40:00.000+01:00

Made it to camp, no drama.

Very dusty.

on the road

2010-09-13T13:47:00.001+01:00

All loaded up. No more packing. Off we go to the rongai gate.

packing

2010-09-13T13:47:00.000+01:00

Watching David pack his bags is hilarious. It goes something like this.

David: 'Do I need this?'
Me, or whoever: 'dunno, I'm not taking one.'

'I'm thinking, we'll probably need some of this.'
'Yes, I'm taking that.'

'We're not going to need that tomorrow are we?'
'no, I'm putting it in my porter bag'

Repeat until equipment is distributed between the various bags.

Wait 30 minutes.

David: 'do you know what? I don't remember packing my wotsit'
Me: 'oh really, well I can't see it around so it must be in one of your bags'
A few minutes of rummaging later, 'found it'.

'I don't have my dudah'
'oh, was it with your thingumajig?'
Rummage, rummage. 'found it'

Repeat every five minutes.

I'm no better, mind. I'll declare that I've finished packing. Then I'll just decide to look through my bag that I'm leaving behind while I wait for David. And I'll find essential kit that I haven't packed. So far: my warm hat, my gloves, and a shoe; just one shoe, I'd packed the other.

Like two women.

Good Morning Kilimanjaro

2010-09-13T13:45:00.000+01:00

Turned Today is the day, we are all packed and ready to go. A hearty breakfast was had by all, including yet another variety of banana.
We've had it raw, fried, baked, deep fried, turned into soup and several other unrecognisable forms. We haven't tried the banana beer or wine yet, which is reckoned to be a close relative of Rocket Fuel.

In 30 minutes we meet at reception, get packed into Landrovers, and travel the 2 hours to Marangu Gate, the entrance to the national park. There we sign in, and trek the few hours to the first camp.

Bags have been packed, repacked and packed again. We've been briefed, we've read the book.
We're all dressed up in our gear, cameras charged and so, we are ready. And if we aren't, its way too late.

Maybe there's time for one last kit check...

answers on a postcard please

2010-09-12T19:46:00.000+01:00

What is russ looking at on his Iphone? He's always on it, he tells he's blogging, but is he really. He's always in this position and has a smile on his face...

david hits the bottle

2010-09-12T19:43:00.000+01:00

last minute packing extravaganza.

Packed our bags for the third time, this time weighing them. We have a max limit of 15kg for the porter bag. At the moment I'm at 13kg, so I'm ok.

packing is now abandoned and we're in the bar.

hello to everyone back home, especially my amazing April.

briefing

2010-09-12T16:43:00.000+01:00

Just had our briefing. Apparently the Bob Marley fan giving us the briefing was the guide who pushed Chris Moyles to the top of the mountain!
There's hope for us yet...

There will be 39 porters and cooks helping us get to the top. There are only eleven of us.

fleeceing

2010-09-12T11:43:00.000+01:00

just on a mini jaunt up the local hill, 1500m.

But I'm trying to keep ahead of David who the guide is trying to fleece out of yet more money for some tourist tat.

No Jelly Babies were harmed in the making of this production

2010-09-12T09:07:00.000+01:00

Simulated view of the Kilimanjaro summit attempt, with Jelly Babies carrying cashews.

One Jelly Baby (Jelly Hillary) did fall from near the summit, but he was later found at the bottom and was ok apart from a slight bit of fluff that was stuck to him.

boredom

2010-09-12T08:47:00.000+01:00

A fitful night's sleep last night. We were awoken by cockerels telling us at the top of their avian voices that it was dawn (it wasn't) and consequently time to get up (it definitely wasn't). Just when you thought the bird was getting tired, in a cleverly synchronised manoeuvre the cockerel handed over to the barking dogs. The dogs never became tired, but they did manage to wake the monkeys, shortly followed by every other form of wildlife in the surrounding jungle.

I donned my eyemask and plugged my ears and managed to drown enough noise out to get some more sleep.

We are bored now, there is nothing to do here. Well that's not strictly true. There's an internet room with a glacial speed internet connection. A sauna big enough for half a person. A hot tub that isn't hot or bubbly. And a massage room with a bed that is stained from however many previous occupants have been prodded and poked on there.
We tried the tourist tat shop. nothing to entertain us, not even a pack of cards.
Writing some postcards killed 15 minutes.

But the truth is this would be an ok place to stay if we wanted a nice relaxing holiday away from the stresses and strains of civilisation. But we don't, we are here to climb a mountain. We are itching to don our boots and get walking, we just want to get on with it.

We watched another group go this morning, with a few people we met yesterday. We watched them load their gear onto the Landrovers and head off down the dirt track.
It added some interest for us, gave us a preview of tomorrow morning, but mostly made us very jealous.

Is this what its like to be retired? I asked David. Probably, but maybe with more golf, said David.

We've got our briefing later today, and hopefully more of our group will turn up. Apparently there are eleven in our trek party, we managed to garner from the hotel manageress.

Until then, maybe I'll pack my bag again, or sit by the pool, or find that bloody cockerel and wring its bloody neck.

exploring

2010-09-11T14:19:00.001+01:00

Tipping is nightmare. Its a part of the culture here to subsidise poor wages, or no wages at all - I understand that. How much to give, on the other hand is a nightmare.

How much do you pay a man who has spent a morning showing you round the local area? 5 dollars, 2 dollars, 20 dollars. I tried to elicit information from him to help us out, as did the others. How much do people earn here? How much does a man earn in a day? 'it depends' he says 'on what a man does'. A man with a small piece of land (the size of a tennis court maybe) will earn 50 dollars. 'in a day? Or a week?' we asked. 'no, in a season'. Oh, ok. We tried the direct approach 'how much should we give you?'. 'Give from your heart!' he said unhelpfully.

We gave him 15 dollars between us. Its probably a lot, but he didn't seem overly ecstatic. In fact he seemed underwhelmed.

We visited the local museum, and learned a bit about the local culture. 3 dollars bought us a lot of information, more than my brain could absorb. The local people are called Changa. They speak Swahili. They used to live in mud huts, but now live in clay brick houses. The lived with cows in the house, grew crops and made banana beer. Men made their wives look ugly by scarring them because the Chief stole all the pretty women.
Banana beer is still made in large quantities apparently, and is quite a potent brew.

We walked through the local plantations of banana, mango, coffee, sweet potato and soya. Plants I'd never seen growing before mostly.

He took us to a local waterfall via what must be the local night club. A hut in the middle of the plantation with a young man with some CDs and a set of speakers. No one was dancing, no one had consumed enough banana beer undoubtedly.

The weather is warm but not too hot, occasionally its sunny but mostly its cloudy.

Now we are back at the hotel, having lunch and contemplating a swim in the small but inviting pool. I'll make that decision after a Kilimanjaro beer.

aha scenery

2010-09-11T14:18:00.000+01:00

Now its daylight we can actually see the surroundings, and its a spectacular view of... Jungle. Big plants, tropical plants like off Jurassic Park. A brontesaurus could be just round the corner. It reminds me of Argentina rain forest, except its a lot cooler here and a lot less humid. Its starting to warm up now, and the morning cloud is being replaced by blue sky.

We slept well, only being woken through the night by heavy rain and an incessant cockerel.

Breakfast was a strange mix of spicy sausage, toast, tea, poached egg, samosas, fried banana and the smallest cutest bananas in the world.

We are off for a wander now to the villages around here.

back of beyond

2010-09-10T21:08:00.000+01:00

We are now at the hotel, reached by crawling down a dirt track at ever so slightly more than walking pace in a car clearly not designed for the purpose, or in sufficiently well maintained condition to make it a comfortable ride.

The clunking of the suspension and whining of engine parts made it clear that the car was past its best, and not enjoying the challenge one bit.

The hotel, Kili Mountain Resort, is a nice place from what we've seen so far. Basic, but functional.
I've managed to slice my finger open in the first 15 minutes of being here, but I'm taking that as a good omen just like the foot slicing incident on Mont Blanc.

Finally now we are sat down drinking beer, and choosing what to eat. Our lack of preparation is showing. The food is priced at 10,000. We don't even know what currency that is never mind how much it is.

tanzania

2010-09-10T20:20:00.001+01:00

I finally succumbed to sleep on the flight over, thankfully. The eight hour flight went interminably slowly. I read, listened to music watched two films and ate whatever was put in front of me. But still the time crawled by. A Bloody Mary, a glass of wine and a Cognac with dinner thankfully anesthetised me and I slept. Even after all that there was still three hours to go.

We arrived in the dark, but I don't think there was much to see anyway. Kilimanjaro airport is small and somewhat disorganised, with little to entertain us while we waited for customs, baggage and our transfer. Outside was even less entertaining. The humidity was high, but not oppressive, under the pitch black moonless sky. Now we sit in a taxi for the transfer, trundling along through the blackness at 80km/h. The darkness is occasionally broken by light from the dwellings that are littered along the well surfaced single carriage road. We drive on the left.

I'm full of enthusiasm, I can't wait to get started. I'm craving a view of the mountain or wide open plains, forests or anything. Or to see local culture, buildings or people. Ultimately, though, I'm left unfulfilled as I stare into the night.

So far so good, though. We all arrived, as did our bags, and our entry visas were accepted. As long as the hotel is habitable and the food palatable tonight we'll be raring to go tomorrow.

Here we go again

2010-09-10T04:12:00.001+01:00

3.27 am, got picked up by the taxi to the airport about half an hour ago, with David and Russ already in the car. Its early, or late, depending on your perspective - for me its late, I opted not to sleep. I opted for dinner out with April at the Steam Trumpet, followed by pub quiz at the Brick Layer's Arms, followed by a glass of port. I'm a stay up late person, not a get up early person.

Packing is one of those things that has to be a last minute thing for me. If I pack early, I take too much. If I pack last minute, I take whatever I can get my hands on, preferably clean. Don't get me wrong, the essentials are there: sleeping bag, down jacket etc. But the fluff has to be last minute.
Sure, I forget stuff. yes, I take inappropriate items. But its a price worth paying for the time saved. April would have packed two weeks ago, and since then we would have watched the case grow incrementally to geological proportions. We would have had between one and three re-packs per day. But still we'd have been packing last minute. I just cut out the preamble.
Of course, my technique is fraught with risk.
I had known for sometime that I could only find one summit glove. I'd told people this, and we'd laugh about it. Michael Jackson? said Judith. And of course I expected to find it in the pile of gear, or behind the washing machine, or in the cat's bed. Probably unwashed, but there nonetheless.
It was with some dismay therefore that I found myself sitting over a giant pile of clothes, with just one glove. Left hand. By some strange chance, I could also find one of my snowboarding mittens. Just one: Right hand. At least I had a pair, a Frankenstein pair, but a pair indeed. April, scoured the house for a while for the missing gloves, to no avail. So I resigned myself to the mismatch, and we hatched plans for the pub. I stuffed clothes into the bag, simultaneously printing off flight details, charging my ipod and other peripheral tasks. Lo and behold April found a snowboarding glove, in the pile of stuff I'd searched numerous times. A quick check revealed it wasn't the one I already had and had refound (for the severalth time) - we had a pair!
At this celebratory point packing was officially suspended in favour of Thursday Steak Night at the pub.

It was at the pub that I also ascertained the location of my Gore Windstopper jacket. Approximately 100 miles north at my friends Jan and Nic.

Pub closing time came, we returned home. I reached everything with April reading out the checklist. Drank a glass of port, wrestled a dead shrew from the cats and here we are.

Now, we speed up the M6 through the dark and rain. The road empty save for lorries and isolated cars. The others sleep, or at least are quiet. I'm too excited, I can't wait.

High Altitude in my own Living Room

2010-09-08T00:27:00.001+01:00

Because of Altitude Sickness issues on Mont Blanc, David wanted to make sure that he was going to be ok on Kilimanjaro and also so satisfy the insurance company that he was ok. So we hired a machine that simulates the lower oxygen levels found at altitude, in order to train our bodies to behave at altitude.

David has been through the whole program now, and is clearly benefiting from it - his O2 levels are very good now even on the highest setting the machine has, which is someway over 6000 metres.

I've dabbled with it, having been on four times in total. I'm clearly am not seeing the benefits that David is from following the full program, but hopefully it will have some small effect.

Basically, you do five minutes on and five minutes off the machine for 90 minutes (ideally). The machine has various levels that simulate different altitudes, and you work up from below 4000 metres to over 6000 metres over a period of a dozen or so sessions. Even sat still there is a very very noticeable difference in oxygen levels. It gets quite an effort to breath, and can lead to dizziness if you don't regulate breathing properly.

While doing this, you wear a device that measures pulse and blood oxygen saturation levels (SPO2). normal SPO2 is 99% for me, but on the machine it drops down to 90 or below.

I started off on the lower levels, but skipped ahead a few levels to try and catch up with David. My body saw what I was up to though, and sent my pulse racing to over 100 and my blood oxygen saturation level into the 60s. Typically at the lower levels my pulse would be below 60 and O2 levels of 88 ish.

I didn't learn from this lesson, and skipped ahead another two levels today. I'm still alive though.

Yet More Kit

2010-09-07T23:42:00.000+01:00

Another trip to our friends at Cotswold Outdoors in Birmingham.
This time to pick up the final items for the Kilimanjaro trip: Sleeping bag, more socks, mozzi repellent, and some how I got suckered in to buying some walking poles and some 'approach shoes'.

Worst of all though I had sleeping mat envy and ended up spending 80 odd quid on a new Thermarest sleeping mat. I say 'new' not because you would expect Cotswold to sell anything other than new kit, but because its 'new' in replacement for my 'old' one.
Old is definitely the word, its at least 15 years old, but that is the only old thing about it. It works perfectly, and I've never event wanted to replace it. But standing in the store today, looking at David and his shiny new 'mountain grade' mat, with non slip surface, rounded corners (to save weight) and funky colours, my other mat felt very old, and I new I had to get one. I justified it by saying the new one would be warmer, lighter, and it is longer. Plus I'd donate my old one to April. Yes, I needed a new one.

The walking poles are for my knee. I would have preferred not to buy them, but I am concerned that my knee, particularly on the descent, is going to be painful.

We also picked up some 70 litre holdalls. Apparently the porters like to carry soft sided bags, so we picked some water resistant bags. They look tough and perfect for the job. We did have a 20 minute debate about whether to get the 100 litre bag and share it, or the two 70 litre bags and have one each. I was concerned that the porters may baulk at having to carry a giant bag, particularly if they get paid by the bag. We kept debating right up to the moment we handed over the credit card. In fact, I think I was still debating with anyone that would listen even as the transaction was going through.

Hopefully I'll never see the inside of that store again in the next 12 months!

Doctor and Diamox

2010-09-06T23:58:00.036+01:00

I finally became sufficiently concerned with my gammy knee to go and see the doctor. I wanted to be sure I wasn't doing any long term damage. I'd been putting it off so far because I was worried the doctor would say 'no Kilimanjaro', and that would be bad.

But the pain is so high, and so frequent now that I needed to know.

I was on a secondary mission too. I wanted some Diamox - these are drugs to take to reduce the affects of Altitude Sickness and give you a chance of getting down the mountain without developing HAPE or HACE. Hopefully I won't need it, but better safe than sorry. I'm interested to try it though, apparently it makes you pee more and makes your fingers and toes tingle! He'd never prescribed Diamox before, so he had to look it up while I tried to convince him of the need. He agreed begrudgingly.

I told him of my woes, and he said he didn't think any permanent damage was being done. 'It would hurt all the time' he said, and 'you'd have other symptoms'. It does hurt all the time, and I do have other symptoms. 'But they'd stop if you weren't exercising'. This is true. If I stop exercising, within 3 days I'm ok. He prodded and poked the knee, and lifted my straightened and bent it while hold various bits. He says: 'Your knee cap clicks a bit', ah here's something tangible I can blame it on...'but nothing to worry about'. Rats. I just want him to say 'if I poke it here, it'll push the wotsit back in place and you'll be fine'. He didn't. Instead he offered me words of encouragement, and offered to refer me to a specialist, and said that if I absolutely had to finish the marathon at all costs he'd give me a steroid injection. No wonder fix there then, so I accepted his offer of the referral and headed off to the pharmacy for the Diamox.

To my surprise, the pharmacy actually had Diamox. With no call for it in the UK, I was sure they would have to order it in.

So I left the Doctor happy I wasn't destroying my knee, but sad there was no miracle cure. Come on medical science, keep up.

Ten Mile Cross Country

2010-09-05T00:15:00.000+01:00

This week was April's 'Short Run'. 10 miles. Apparently, while I wasn't looking, 10 miles was redefined as 'a short run'. In my books, it is still classified as 'a bloody long way'.

Anyway, I joined her and her friend Leoni (I'm guessing on spelling) from Holland on a jaunt in the Charnwood Forests. It was a tough run, up long steep hills and cross country for 90% of the way, and at a reasonable lick too. The only saving grace on cross country runs is that there are plenty of stops to climb over stiles and so forth. Unfortunately, once again, I was the least fit of the three, and was bringing up the rear. This was particularly apparent when they seemed to decide that a sprint finish was in order at the end of the ten miles. I decided discretion was the better part of valour and watched them disappear up the track leaving me hobbling along behind.

The good news is that I made it round with out too much knee pain. It was hurting, but it was manageable.

Last Jab

2010-09-01T00:15:00.000+01:00

Last Jab was had tonight. Hep B number three.
Hopefully I won't be feeling as sick as after number two.

They relieved me of 35 quid for the pleasure.

woh-ohh, we're half way there...

2010-08-28T23:29:00.000+01:00

...ohh, ohhh we're living on a prayer.

Yep, we're almost half way through the challenges, but more importantly I actually managed to run a half marathon today! Oh yeah, I can run half the distance necessary to finish the marathon.

April somehow managed to convince me to come on a long run, predicted to be 17 miles. It looked like a nice day, and I couldn't come up with any legitimate excuses so off we went. We ran with one of April's running club friends, Sheila, who has run marathons before - that meant that I was the un-fittest, and likely to be running up the rear, probably not completing the distance.

This prediction came true. As well as dragging down the pace, my knee told me that it wasn't liking the run at all after about six miles. It became progressively worse, until after 12 miles it said STOP. I knew we were in for the long haul, because after 10 miles we were still heading away from home, two miles later we were in Kegworth and starting to turn for home. At this point I knew that I didn't have another 10 miles in me. I decided to split off from the ladies, and take the 'short cut' home. I forced myself to run for another two miles to get to 14 miles, just over the half marathon distance. I then hobbled / jog-hobbled the next three to four miles to where April picked me up.

April managed the 20 miles, and although she was tired she said she felt good. She's clearly a mile (or six) ahead of me in fitness. I think April could run the marathon now at a push.

The run itself was good. It was cross country, so tougher than the road, which I think was the undoing of my knee, and warm weather. I was happy I had completed 14 miles, two miles more than ever before, but disappointed that I had to stop as I felt I had a couple more miles in me.

Kilimanjaro and Marathon

2010-08-10T22:18:00.001+01:00

After three days of recuperation and general getting back to normality I’ve been getting back on the case of Kilimanjaro and the Marathon today.

For Kilimanjaro, David and I have been investigating the jabs and visas required. We will need a visa, so we’ll be looking more into that. Jabs will be required, quite a number of them, so I’m going to try and get to see my GP this week. Also trying to do some research on the web.

I’ve decided that virtually all of my training from now on is going to be focussed on the marathon. From Mont Blanc, my experience is that general fitness is far more important than specific walking/climbing specifics. Running and marathon training gives me a much greater fitness than walking.

On that basis I went running tonight, my plan just to do a 4-5 mile run just to get me back into it. It felt tough immediately, feeling like I’d lost a lot of fitness over the last couple of weeks, despite all the activity. After two miles my left knee started hurting, and my right hamstring tightened up. Over the next couple of miles my hamstring eased up, and I eased into the running, but my left knee felt worse and worse. Its the same knee that ended up bruised and battered from climbing down Mont Blanc in the dark. By the time I’d covered four miles, I couldn’t run any more and could barely walk the last 500 yards home. I’m sitting here with nursing a very sore knee, worried very much about the consequences on my training plan.

On a brighter note, April and I went to the Leicester Running Shop to have a go on their Gait Analysis System. The lady in the shop videod us on the treadmill in various pairs of trainers and recommended shoes to us based on our running style and how we landed our feet. I very quickly found a pair of Asics that suit me. It was very clear that my current Nike Air Pegasus have been pummelled flat, and I wonder if that’s why I have problems with the nerves in my right foot toes.

Needless to say April took twice as long, and tried twice as many shoes on and ended up keeping the woman behind 20 minutes after closing time.

We both bought some nice soft spongy running socks too.

The running shoes performed well tonight, as did the socks. Just concerned about the knee.

Summit Pictures

2010-08-07T17:04:00.000+01:00

Philip, my Norwegian friend has kindly sent me the summit pictures he took on his camera.

One is of me holding the silver compass April gave me for our wedding anniversary in July. I took it with me as a good luck charm, and it obviously worked!

Another is of me holding the 3tc Banner for the charities. Remember you can still donate for this challenge and for the remaining challenges (Kilimanjaro and the New York Marathon) at www.justgiving.com/3tcchallenge. A huge thank you to everyone that has donated money so far.

All of the money raised goes to the three charities directly, and none of the money is used to fund any of the challenges.

The three charities are:

Operation Florian www.operationflorian.com A humanitarian Fire Fighters Charity. Working to promote the protection of life amongst communities in need, world-wide, by the provision of equipment and training to improve fire fighting and rescue capabilities

The Princes Trust www.princes-trust.org.uk The Prince's Trust helps change young lives.

The Burned Children's Club www.burnedchildrensclub.org.uk The Burned Children's Club gives support to young burn survivors and their families. They promote self esteem and help children come to terms with their altered body image. Support is also essential to parents and siblings as they too need help to adjust and come to terms with the trauma.

There is also a Norwegian article, if you can’t understand the words you can look at the pictures like me!

www.dagbladet.no/2010/08/07/nyheter/klatring/fjellklatring/mont_blanc/12867174/

Reflection

2010-08-06T11:52:00.001+01:00

Already the mountain seems just a memory, almost like a dream. Over dinner last night and breakfast this morning we have tried to piece together isolated memories into a coherent story.
Even with the collective brains of David, Philip and myself there are huge holes. Every so often another neuron will be triggered by a word spoken, or a photograph viewed, and another tiny piece of the jigsaw will fall into place.

The mountain and the valley are two separate worlds. It isn't possible to comprehend the sensations, the views, the emotions, the physical exertion, the cold or the lack of air from here, in the valley. Things that seem trivial here are major tasks up there. Eating, drinking, tieing laces.. The brain does a good job of isolating one from the other. Down here it can file memories neatly away, think about actions and consequences. Up there, it's only function is to make the body do the next thing required to reach the next goal. It sounds strange, but as you walk, isolated, staring at the snow one step in front of you, your consciousness disappears into a deep place within your mind. You can feel that your thoughts are just a pea sized kernel in the centre of a large piece of grey matter.
The same thoughts continually go through your mind. Over and over.

'I can't make it any further. I'm broken, I can't breath. Take a big breath. Ok, I can take one more step. Where shall I step? There looks good. Ok, here goes. Step'. Repeat a million times.

Time has no meaning in this trance, at times I couldn't say whether it had been two minutes or two hours.

Once in a while I would muster the energy to say 'Philipe, I need to stop for a minute'. Sometimes he'd ignore me, or maybe not hear me. Or maybe I didn't say it out loud at all. Other times he'd say. 'we stop at that place. One minute only'. Sometimes we'd stop. Sometimes we wouldn't. Once stopped, we'd breathe until we could drink. Then we'd sip enough water to wet the throat. A mouthful, no more. Any more led to nausea. Two seconds drinking meant ten seconds heavy breathing. Sometimes I'd try and put a square of Norwegian chocolate in my mouth, donated by Philip. Most times I'd chew it into a gritty paste then spit it out so I could breathe again. Too dehydrated to swallow.
Other times I'd stuff it in my pocket. I'll eat it later, I'd tell myself.
Philipe: 'now we go'. Pick up ice axe, turn, walk. Five steps with rejuvinated blood, then, 'I can't make it any further...'.

There is no space or time for filing memories. The scenery was spectacular, I can see from the photos. I was happy sometimes, and a zombie at others. I can tell from the photos.

But there are tangible, physical, reminders of the events. After a good night's sleep, and a hot shower this morning, the physical signs on my body became apparent. Signs that I hadn't seen from wearing the same clothes for a week.

Bruised ankles, tiny ruptured blood vessels on the surface of the feet and blisters showing days of abuse from boots that saved my ankles so many times from snapping sideways as I slipped off a rock, fell through snow up to my knees or tripped over my own feet.

Feeling now just returning to my toes, tingling as the blood returns to them after days of having been squeezed by over tight boots.
Calf muscles so tight that I struggle to bend my ankles. Bruises and cuts visible from the countless times I kicked myself with crampons. Knees bruised black from slipping and sliding down the Gouter ridge in the dark.

Blisters on my fingers from, of all things, tieing boot laces as tight as I could.

Sun burnt face, dry cracked lips from the mountain sun and dry air. Sore throat from breathing icy cold air as quickly as I could. Tingling tongue from dehydration.

All superficial, thankfully.

But all this is melodramatic. Our guides, Philippe and Val didn't suffer from altitude sickness, dehydration or excessive fatigue. Philippe's 27th summit or Val's 10th was no more difficult to them than David or I climbing Ben Nevis.

This week I've been listening to an audio book to help me sleep in the Refuges. The Climb, by Anatoli Bukreev, tells the story of the disastrous season of 1996 on Everest where so many people lost their lives. That puts all this into perspective. Almost twice as high, substantially colder and an order of magnitude more dangerous. Even with my small snapshot of exposure to mountain life, I can't conceive what it would be like to be there.

Down

2010-08-05T11:20:00.000+01:00

The last two days have been epic to say the least. David and I will tell the full story when we've pieced it back together from the fractured memories somewhere in our minds.

It's difficult not to sound cliched. It was by far the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Five times harder - that's how many times I had decided in my mind that it was impossible to carry on. But somehow an ounce of mental strength was found to make it to the next ridge, the next turn, the next whatever-it-was that I had set as the next goal.

It wasn't fitness, I feel tired, exhausted, but not broken. It was the altitude, the lack of oxygen. From half way up I was struggling, by the time we reached the Gouter refuge I was filling my lungs with two huge breaths of thin air for every step I took. Even then, Philip and I would have to stop every 15 minutes or so to get our breath back and our heart rate down. My lungs felt like they were trying to explode out of my chest.

The ascent and descent took 18 hours. The decision was made by our guide Filipe to do the entire ascent and descent in one day, it was the only weather window we had. We had to climb from the railway right to the top, and back down to the Tete Rousse refuge. We made the two hour descent from the Tete Rousse to where we now sit, on the train. By all accounts it is a feat that is rarely attempted, even less succeeded. No-one we told on the way up believed us. The original plan is to climb to the Tete Rousse one day, and then leave from there early at 1 or 2 am to ascend. The even more preferable route is to climb to the Gouter refuge on the first day, leaving a much shorter second day.

When we reached the Gouter hut, I joined Philip and his guide Filipe. David stayed with Val, the other guide that we had started out with. If we hadn't split up I'm not convinced either of us would have made it, we both felt beaten, and I think we may have convinced each other to stop. But I joined Philip, which gave me more impetus and I hoped that it would kick in David's competitive streak to say 'if Simon's going to try, so am I'.

Reaching the summit brought short lived elation. It was very cold and windy, but more the prospect of repeating the entire journey again downhill sapped my spirit.
Five minutes after leaving the summit we passed David, I was so glad to see him make it. '5 minutes' I said, I don't know if he heard, he trudged on. We had tried to wait at the summit for David, but it was too cold, we had to go.

Downhill is almost as difficult has uphill, with different challenges. On Everest, 80 percent of the deaths occur on the descent. Tiredness, oxygen starvation and just not paying attention being some of the reasons.

There was no enjoyment. The job was only half done. The hammering of the knees and ankles, smashing of toes into the end of the boots, just as difficult to breath. The only real respite was the flat sections, where the stride could be lengthened and the blood filled with oxygen. Even on the decent we had steep uphill sections to climb.

Even when we reached the refuge, comforts were minimal. I forced a cup of tea down my throat, and a biscuit. It's all I could stomach, nowhere near enough to replace the 10000 calories burnt. Bed was a bunk, with damp mattress and covers. 6 hours sleep, which went in seconds even though I was cold. Slept in all my mountain gear, just about managed to wrestle off my climbing harness, Crampons and boots before climbing into the bunk.

We are off to the hotel, if this train ever moves, for a hot bath and a hot meal. We've been wearing the same clothes for a week, and we are dieing to wear some warm dry clothes.

I've hardly eaten over the last few days. During the climb, I was so dehydrated that I would try to chew some chocolate or bread, but couldn't swallow it and ended up spitting it out. Dehydration came about because of the difficulty of drinking. Taking a 3 second suck of drink while walking took 30 seconds to recover breathing. Even drinking while stood still made me feel nauseous.

When I've had more time, I'll update with photos and more coherent words.
Right now, I just want food. And to get these bloody boots off.

made it

2010-08-05T09:10:00.000+01:00

cold. Very cold

tete rousse here we come

2010-08-04T06:18:00.001+01:00

Our bleary eyes were met this morning by the sight of thick grey fog. Filipe was wrong, today was supposed to be good weather, and bad tomorrow. Maybe he is wrong. Please.

But, by the time I had forced three pain au chocolates down my throat the early morning mist was evaporating. Damn, he is right.

We packed last night to save time this morning. But there were still the usual last minute re-packs due to questions about whether to take one fleece or two, or other such thoughts mulled over through the night. I woke at 4am, and dozed on and off until the alarm forced me out of bed at 0550. My best night's sleep so far.
Calf muscles are sore, but my all important feet feel good. They didn't enjoy being forced into the stiff mountain boots again, but like putting a horse in a bridle, once fitted we came to an arrangement where I understood they weren't happy, but they agreed to do my bidding.

Now we are on the way to the start point, by taxi, cable car then train. We then climb to the Tete Rousse, our refuge for tonight.
I'm nervous, not because of any sense of danger, but fear the weather may yet thwart us.

Fear Uncertainty and Doubt

2010-08-03T20:15:00.001+01:00

At this moment the question of whether or not we will be able to attempt to summit Mont Blanc is still undetermined.

Our guide, Phillipe has been saying for the last few days that the weather is not looking good for us, and that we may not get the opportunity to summit. After we returned to Chamonix today he said he would call us 1700 to tell us if the summit trip was on.

He called us at the appropriate time and spoke to David, giving us the option of either going to another 4000m summit in Italy or attempting Mont Blanc in the knowledge that in all likelihood we would not succeed.

We had already discussed this earlier today, and for me there was absolutely no question. If we are not on Mont Blanc then there is zero possibility of summitting. If we are on Mont Blanc, then we may only get a 1 percent chance of ok weather but that is still better than zero.

The reason I am here is to climb Mont Blanc, so my mind has 100 percent clarity on this.

Philipe agreed to try, so we meet at 0700 tomorrow.

We get the feeling that Philipe is not keen, he keeps putting barriers in the way, or so it seems. Changing the time to earlier, saying we need extra equipment and so forth. But we aren't to be dissuaded. David and I are a little worried that we have press ganged the others into this. Particularly our Norwegian friends Philip and Elizabeth.

David and I have also discussed the possibility of staying on an extra day if the weather improves and gives another opportunity. We both want to get back to our loved ones, but if we can do it in one more day, it means not having to come back for another week. It will be a logistical nightmare, but nothing impossible I hope.

We will have to see what tomorrow brings.

Fingers crossed everybody please.

We seem to have spent a lot of money here, but things are very expensive. Particularly in the Refuges. 1.5 litres of water costs 6 Euros. The same costs 63 cents in the Chamonix supermarket. Other food and drink is the same - a Coke cost 3 or 4 Euros. The food is helicoptered into the refuges as there is no other sensible way.

civilisation

2010-08-03T18:17:00.001+01:00

Today we've been from the middle of a blizzard at 3000m to civilisation and sunshine in Chamonix.

This morning's start at 0530 was into thick cloud, shortly followed by snow for an hour or so. A brief respite was followed by frozen rain, which stung the face and eyes.
Snow followed again. The ground was frozen so walking was more difficult: the ice twists the feet to match it's wind contorted form whereas snow squashes underfoot.

We reached the col between Switzerland and France and descended down into thick cloud and freezing temperatures. I had a chance to lead for a while, which was good because it a change from being at the rear, and it gave me brain work to do plotting a path. Even better though, it meant I could set the pace, and I think most of us enjoyed the quicker pace.

We descended past the Albert premier refuge where we spent the first night and down through the valley and ultimately back home.

I enjoyed today. It was more challenging, more representative of what conditions may be like on Mont Blanc.

forecast for Mont Blanc

2010-08-03T10:22:00.001+01:00

We have just heard that the weather forecast for Mont Blanc is bad and at the moment it seems like we will not get an opportunity to climb Mont Blanc.

Very disappointing. let's hope the weather forecasts are as bad here in France as in the UK.

spectacular view.

2010-08-02T20:05:00.000+01:00

Switzerland from our refuge.

Day 3 - into Switzerland

2010-08-02T20:01:00.000+01:00

This morning we were woken at 4am, ate a hasty breakfast and were on the move by 4.30. The early start was due to the prospect of bad weather this afternoon, and Phillipe decided it was better to be cold and dry in the dark than cold and wet in the afternoon.
Right now we are at the refuge, over the border in Switzerland. We have walked for 7 hours for a journey that should have taken just 3-4. We are all (but one) frustrated at having to walk at the pace of the slowest, which is very slow. It is impossible to get into rhythm because it is step-step-stop [five seconds] step-step-stop, repeat ad-infinitum. The guide is talking to her now because he is as frustrated as us. But, Philip, David and I busied ourselves writing in the snow and generally messing about, and then whinging when we got bored of that. The fun was limited though because we were all tied together and we had to be 3 metres apart. The words of our French guide Phillipe ringing in our ears 'ze rowp murst bee tight', 'keep ze rowp out of ze snow'! We couldn't stray from the path he led between the snow covered crevasses.

We enjoyed some rock scrambling towards the end, and for the first time felt the affects of the altitude, getting out of breath hauling ourselves over boulders and Scree. For this section we were unroped and free to pick our own route.

Boot update: today, for the first time, I didn't want to rip my boots off. We are finally becoming friends. My feet are still strapped up, but feeling much better.

The weather has been cold, and we have been dressed in full outer layers and big gloves for some of the way. The ambient temperature may be above zero, but the wind is biting.

Current altitude is 3170m, I think.

I feel as though my fitness levels are good. Although I can feel the last 7 hours walking, I could carry on and do it again. Need to keep hydration levels up, haven't been drinking nearly enough. Just had a nice beer though with lunch.

Still enjoying it. Looking forward to more challenging training.

qui se rapelle

2010-08-02T20:00:00.000+01:00

All of this morning's frustrations are forgotten. This afternoon we had a fantastic training session climbing to the top of a rocky peak near our Swiss refuge. We were roped together while we climbed the 3269m Pointe d'Orny from the refuge, over large boulders, steep slopes and small rock faces.

Phillipe, our guide, tells us it is representative of the Gouter ridge we will climb on the ascent of Mont Blanc. It was steep in places with very large drops into the valley below, but the rope and the good quality rock gave confidence and we quickly made it to the top.
We were unhindered by the slower member of the team who elected to stay back at base. For the first time today we got a real taste for the exertion and the lower oxygen levels. The summit of Mont Blanc is another 1.7km higher, more than one vertical mile.

Getting down was easier, we scrambled down to a snow slope and then slid down into the snow bowl below the refuge, on our backsides. Fun.

Now, we sit in the refuge watching the pouring rain and hail outside. No phone signal here and I am desperate to phone April as I haven't spoken to her for two days nearly.
David managed to get signal earlier, but it eluded me.

At lunch, we were refuge bound again because of the poor weather. To kill time I organised a game of Que se Rapelle. A french game for five to seven year olds where a card is held up and you have to say what it is called. We determined that between the five of us, we nearly have the intelligence of a french five year old...

Day 2 - Albert Premiere Refuge

2010-08-01T16:18:00.000+01:00

We got the cable car to an altitude of 1000m, and then spent the next 3-4 hours walking to the refuge where we will spend the night, at 2700 metres. The walk started on grassy slopes with large cows grazing with the constant clang of the alpine cow bell to keep us going.

The track wound it's way up and around the side of the mountain and gradually turned into a rocky traverse with steep drop offs from time to time, but nothing dangerous. We walked at the pace of the slowest, not David or me, and therefore the pace should have been easy. But, as with my running, I only have one pace so I found it frustrating and felt I was dragging my heels. When we saw the Refuge ahead of us, maybe 3-400m of vertical height, David, Philip and I strode off to the hut. At a faster pace the walking made the altitude more noticeable, getting out of breath more quickly.

We ate lunch overlooking the giant glacier with huge crevasses, sitting in the the same scorching sun we had walked in the morning.

This afternoon we played with Crampons, axes, ropes and our harnesses. It was great fun, I really enjoyed the new experiences and can't wait to try it out for real tomorrow. Looking down into the crevasses was spectacular, the ice changing from white to grey to blue, descending down in some cases to black dark nothingness. The Crampons gave real confidence to get up close, as did the rope attaching me to David and ultimately the guide. But it made me very conscious that although I was having fun, there were serious dangers. The danger is the crevass that is covered with a snow bridge masking the danger below. Phillipe prodded the snow ahead to determine the safe path.

The Crampons we have are the wrong ones, designed for boots with ski boot like toes. The crampons were supplied with the High Vegas boots we originally had, and we neglected to check they were correct. We only found our error when we had put them on and the guide uttered a typical 'no no noooo'. But disaster was saved, we swapped with two of the girls who had the relevant boots. A bit of 'modifying' with judicious use of my ice axe convinced Phillipe it would work. And off we went.

Boot update: they performed well today with my bandages and foam protecting my feet. The slow pace helped. My hopes are high for tomorrow.

Dinner is soon, and then an early night for an early start tomorrow. The weather is closing in so it could be much colder tomorrow.

A great day, really enjoyed it.

Day 2

2010-08-01T07:16:00.000+01:00

6.30 alarm call, not too antisocial. Woke up and chatted with David for 5 mins and then began the getting ready process.

during the strapping up of my heels phase I was admiring the Leatherman tool that April had bought me, engraved with my name. I smiled at the sharpness and the ease it sliced through the tape. I turned it in my hands and marvelled at the fine engineering. I dropped it and impaled my left foot.
15 minutes later I had stemmed the flow of blood onto me and the carpet, and was back onto getting ready.

Breakfast was pain au chocolate and jam. Couldn't stomach much else through a combination of excitement and not being accustomed to eating so early.

We are in the taxi to the start point now. Weather: cool and sunny.

We are all very excited.
Let the fun commence!

chamonix

2010-07-31T21:42:00.001+01:00

it's the end of Day 1, the travel / prep day. We both arrived safe and sound, with all our gear. The transfer in was spectacula for the last thirty minutes as we both strained our necks to see Mont Blanc beautifully lit by the afternoon sun.

we arrived at around four pm, and spent around two hours packing and unpacking bags and comparing notes. At seven, we headed down for the briefing and kit check, and to meet our companions for the next week. Phillipe, our French guide talked us through the gear, and advised us on a load of things we could leave behind. We ditched a fleece, some food (we get lunch provided, which we have to carry), med kit (he carries one) and a few other bits and bobs. The rest of the kit passed muster.

We managed to save a kilo or two each. Which was very rapidly replaced by the packed lunch he gave us. Net loss, zero.

Our companions are Philip and Elizabeth from Norway, plus Semena from Croydon. Spellings are probably completely wrong, but believe me with my ability to remember names you are lucky you got anything.

At the base here we are at 1000 metres, we'll be climbing a bit higher tomorrow for acclimitisation and training.

Boot Update: I think I've found a workable combo. I have fashioned some foam inserts (from my trusty sleeping mat, which is slowly getting shorter) that wrap around my heels to give them some volume. So far these have worked well and this is what I will go with tomorrow. I've spent most of the day trying different combos on each foot. sometimes with nearly a couple of centimeters difference in height in each leg!

bienvenue a france

2010-07-31T14:04:00.000+01:00

We've made it as far as France, via Switzerland, and are currently being sped through the countryside by a typical French madman in the back of a minibus.

The flight into Geneva was uneventful, apart from some great views of Mont Blanc from above. Its strange - this time I found it much more alluring and impressive than ever before. I, like anyone who has enjoyed winter sports in the Alps, have seen Mont Blanc many times before, from every conceivable angle. But in the past, I've found it interesting, pretty, but nothing much more than that.
Now, though, I have an almost insatiable desire to be there, on it, conquering it. I'm willing the transfer journey away. I can see the slopes we will be climbing, recognised from the dozens of images on the web. I can see its prowess over the inferior peaks that stand in its shadow.

There will be people that read this that have done far more challenging things, scaled higher mountains or other magnificent feats. I salute you! But to me, right now, this is my Everest.

I may hopefully go on to do bigger better things, but this is challenge enough for now.

I daren't even contemplate not making it to the top for reasons outside my control. There is only a 66 percent chance that we will get the opportunity to attempt the summit, with weather being the predominant factor. The disappointment that would consume me would be intolerable. I would be inconsolable. Until I found a pub anyway.

Boot Update: I've tried out another half a dozen ways of getting these boots to fit. So far I've abandoned the gel inserts and am currently trying with my tongue suppressers wrapped around my girl ankles to give them some width.

here we go!

2010-07-31T09:14:00.001+01:00

We are on our way, we've made it as far as the airport and are currently tucking into bacon sandwiches and croissants. Carbo loading of course, a carefully calorie controlled diet...

Its also a last chance for me to fiddle with my boots and try and get them to fit. I've brought a load of paraphernalia with me like inserts from other boots, some gel heel pads I bought, some foam from an old camping sleeping mat and a collection of other bits and pieces. Hopefully I can cobble something together.

I finally got finished packing at one am this morning. I don't really know if I have everything, but a cursory scan of the house revealed nothing obvious that I'd forgotten. And my bag was full, so anything else I'd have had to wear anyway. The bag only weighed 17 kg so that's encouraging.

After a false start going to sleep (damn dishwasher beeping incessantly at me to tell me what a good job it had done of the dishes, attention seeker) I got a good solid sleep until the alarm went off at five am. quickly got dressed, said goodbye to April and headed over to David's' and down to Heathrow terminal five.

So this is it, work and home left behind for a week (well almost, I'm sure I'll hear from both!) and off on our challenge. I'm really excited and just want to get out there now.

We have a briefing session tonight at the hotel, and then tomorrow morning we start the fun.

Showbiz darling

2010-07-30T23:40:00.000+01:00

Fame and Fortune at last! David and I made it to page 3 (no comments please) of the Leicester Mercury today (Friday 30th July).

With a bit of luck as well as bringing me untold riches and a new career in showbiz it will help raise some more money for the charities too.

One day to go. I leave home at 05.15 tomorrow to get to David's for 06.00 to head down to Heathrow for the flight. David and I are both at various stages of preparedness - we have most of the stuff sorted we think, but there are lots of unknowns. The kit is the least of our worries to be honest, my feet and David's back are still the biggest concerns.

My feet are still blistered after 3 days of recovery from a 6.8 mile walk on Tuesday. I know now for sure that my boots and feet will not be getting along on the trip and I am resigned to the consequences of that. I've mitigated this by arming myself with a hundred weight of Compede blister plasters, pain killers, healing gel and anything else I could find. Its still a full day before we do any serious walking, so there's chance for them to toughen up a bit still, but after the first day in the boots I'll be back to square one.

Anyway, I haven't started packing yet and its 23.35. I've had a few plumbing issues (the bathroom, not me personally) which consumed the whole evening. Packing shouldn't take more than an hour or so as everything is largely concentrated in one room. Hopefully its just a matter of ramming stuff in a bag. I can pack the backpack when we get there tomorrow, so the only task for tonight is to make sure I take everything I may need with me. Oh, and print off the flight details and boarding pass. And find my passport. And my money. And my camera and charger...

Marathon, what marathon?

2010-07-29T07:27:00.001+01:00

For the last couple of days April has been trying to talk to me about that thing of which I do not speak. You know, the Mmmm. I can't even say it. The long race in New York in November.

I've focussed on Mont Blanc so far, and then the plan was to focus on Kilmanjaro, and then there was no plan after that. But it has suddenly dawned on me (ok, my brain has finally accepted) that we have to run the Marath...long race, and that I'll need to do some training. Its kind of like therapy - first I have to admit it is there, then I can deal with it. I'm at stage one: 'My name is Simon and I'm running a Mmmmm, I'm running a marathon'. There, I said it.

April is getting into this, though. She has bought some books, one of them called 'Four hour marathon in four months'. Now that sounds good, limiting the pain to four months and since the Marathon is in November, we won't need to start training for a while, I like the sound of that. Oh, wait. November is in three-and-a-bit months time, and by the time we get back from Mont Blanc it will be just three months. So I need to start training four weeks ago. Which means I'm already behind.

Oh well, there is only one thing for it. Back to denial for me, I've fallen off the wagon at the first hurdle.

Marathon, what marathon?

countdown: one week to go...

2010-07-25T21:42:00.000+01:00

Yes, just one week to go. Seven days and counting, well six really because we travel next Saturday. Bloody hell that's come around quickly. It's seemed liked months away for ages, but now its not, its next week. Tomorrow it will be this week. Am I ready...?

There are only two things that are really concerning me at the moment. There are lots of things that are sort of bothering me, little niggles, but only two real concerns. My boots, and whether I'll ever get over this damned cold.

On the latter, I've given up not training, I need to keep the fitness levels up and if that means I don't recover as quickly then so be it. I've ramped down, but I need to keep up the fitness.

So that only really leaves one real concern, the boots. With all the flip-flopping between the Scarpa Vegas and the Scarpa Mantas, and finally settling on the Mantas (we have, haven't we?) we only really had 2-3 weeks to break them in (or break my feet in to them, I don't really care which). With a week to go, they still aren't broken in, and I'm struggling to break them in without wrecking my feet. So, today was another chance to put some miles into them and my feet.

It's been very warm and muggy today, so I left it until the evening until I set off. Just trudging round the local hills as usual - I had had grandiose plans of heading up to the Dark Peak, maybe Kinderscout or somewhere like that, but I failed to muster my mate Kanj as he was in the middle of some building works so stuck to the local area.

[Interlude: I've just had to dip out for ten minutes because of a minor disaster: I just gently put a glass of red while down on the coffee table and it exploded everywhere. It covered me, April, the laptop, coffee table, the sofa, the wall behind us and a BP sized slick on the floor.. Wine and glass everywhere. There is no other explanation other than it just exploded. I definitely wasn't typing this while watching TV and totally lost track of it as April will allege.]

Saving my feet while putting miles in is the name of the game, and making the boots fit better was the ticket. David has some tongue suppressers that improved the fit of his boots. These tongue supressers aren't the things the dentist uses, but are foam inserts that push the tongue down to help push the foot back and hopefully stop the foot and heel lifting. David got some from Cotswold camping, and I made some from an old camping crash mat (sleeping mat). They are the black and red bits on the photo below:

Despite being a bit heath-robinson, they worked really well. I'd covered the blisters from a couple of days ago with some large plasters that I've used before and know work well. After the walk, I checked my heels and only had some very small blisters forming and the older blisters were no worse. Best of all though, my feet soles didn't hurt anywhere near as much as the previous occasions. So progress is being made, but time is tight.

I was carrying a full pack again. I pack the bag from scratch each time, so I can get used to knowing where everything is, and how it fits together. This is a worthwhile exercise and I recommend it, it makes you think about what gear you'll need at particular points in the trip: waterproofs at the top easily accessible, food and water to hand, that sort of stuff. It sounds obvious but the temptation is to just stuff everything in the pack, but in the cold / rain / dark it will be a nightmare to find anything. Pack it, unpack it, pack it, unpack it.

The walk was largely uneventful. Eight miles, two-and-a-half hours. There were less killer flies than the last few days. Today's biblical swarm was giant black slugs, but I was fairly confident that a) they had no malicious intent towards me and that b) even if they did I could easily out run (walk, crawl) them.

I also had another cow incident, another field of cows and another stare-down incident. This time it was black cows, and one big dude that thought he could out-stare me, but I'm wise to their antics now. He stood in my way, chewing a single long blade of grass, like a gangster chewing a cocktail stick, and stared me down. But I moo'd at him in his own language and we went our separate ways. He had some little horns growing on his head so I suspect he was playing at being the big hard cow in-front of his mates.

I also had a wander up to Hill Hole quarry in Markfield, its an old quarry with some good climbing / scrambling opportunities. I wanted to test the boots out (and myself) on rock and see how good they were at steep terrain. They turned out to be really good, the stiff soles made scrambling up rocks fairly easy, as long as you could find edges big enough to get a toe or a side of a foot on. They felt solid though.

Lastly, I tried out the energy drink, and that works well too. I didn't make it up to the recommended strength because I just wanted to get used to the taste. It tasted a little of artificial sweetener, but not too bad.
I drank around a litre in the two and a half hours I was out, which seems about right.

Kit Prep

2010-07-25T13:43:00.017+01:00

No training today, it was time to do some kit prep.
I've been packing and unpacking my bag regularly, so I'm pretty clear on the order stuff goes in and where to find stuff, so hopefully that will minimise faffing on the mountain.
It still takes me an hour to get ready to go out by the time I have got ready and packed my bag, but I'm hoping to get that down to 30 mins. It will be less in reality on the mountain because I won't be packing the bag from scratch. But making up the drinks and stowing food for easy access is part of the faff that will still be there.

I also took the powder carb drink and bagged it up in ziplock bags of 150grams and 100grams each, and labelled them for the days of the trip. the 100g bags for the first few days, and the 150g for the two summit climb days. The recommended dose is 50g per 500ml, but I've used less than that because I don't like it to taste too strong or sweet. I've got the energy gels if I need to top up.
The bags of powder do look like I've got some baggies of contraband stashed in my bag, so hopefully no problems at Customs!

So I'm pretty happy kit wise, a few questions like 'do I take my SLR camera' and 'do I take my Windstopper jacket', but its all peripheral stuff now.

The medical kit is sorted pretty much too, and I picked up a load of batteries for the head-torch etc.

The kit is coming together, just worried about the boots really now.

Top Up

2010-07-23T13:41:00.002+01:00

Just a short run today to top up on some running. 4.5 miles around the reservoir and a bit of hill training.

To be honest its about all I could manage as I still feel really lethargic and full of cold. I hope I can get over this soon as I am starting to worry about the affect on my fitness.

Cows

2010-07-22T22:00:00.001+01:00

Walking today: decided to put some more miles through the boots, I'm getting concerned about the fact that they still hurt my feet and need to get them broken in. With just over a week to go, that means as much walking as possible. Today I'm wearing a thick pair of socks, plus a medium pair (rather than thins) to try and bulk up a bit and protect my feet.

I did the usual plan and set of round the local reservoir and then took a random path off through the woods and fields. The path today took me up through Browns wood and towards the main road. The air was infested with big dozy flies, that land on you and sit their with their big googly eyes. I can't determine if they are just being lazy and catching a ride, or eyeing up my flesh and deciding which bit to sink their teeth into. In any case I don't give them a chance and swat them off whenever I catch them. But there are lots of them, and it soon becomes a tiresome task, so I head for the road for a while.

I then headed through some fields, and came across some nice pretty white cows munching away on grass. Or that's what I thought. I noticed that as I walked through the field, they started to group together and track me down the field, walking slowly at first, with one eye on me. Slowly they began to come round behind me and to the side and herd me towards the corner of the field. But it was like an episode of Doctor Who, the one with the statues that only move when you aren't looking. Whenever I stopped and turned round to look, they froze and just sort of stared at me.

But just like in Dr Who, they got closer and closer, so I made a beeline for the gate in the corner of the field. Now, I'm not really the kind of person that is scared of animals, but when there are several tons of beef heading your way then it does make bring visions of being trampled to death in some sort of stampede payback for all the steaks I've eaten in my life. I tried to speak to them in their own language, with moos and snorts, but they just stared at me, possibly laughing - I couldn't really tell.

Eventually I got to the corner of the field with an ever quickening pace. And just in time too. By the time I got there I was completely cornered:

So I hid (I mean placed myself strategically) behind the gate and stared them out for a few minutes. However, I was left in no uncertain terms that I would be leaving the field, and there was no way back.

The next field that I entered was also full of cows, but as soon as I entered the field they ran off, so I thought they were much more benign. However it turned out that what they were actually doing was positioning themselves in the narrowest part of the field in some sort of blockade. Potentially they were French cows.

Having no option but to proceed (or camp the night in the field) I marched towards them with outward confidence, which seemed to work. They parted the way and let me through, and followed me up the field. Occasionally they would try and run at me, but a forceful stamp of the foot and a loud moo stopped them in their tracks.

Eventually I made it out without the cows exacting their slobbery revenge.

Anyway, only around four miles covered today. I was starting to form some blisters so I headed home.

Weather

2010-07-20T11:05:00.000+01:00

I've been thinking about what the weather conditions are going to be like on Mont Blanc. Whether it would be super sunny, will there actually be any snow and ice at the top after the warm weather that we had.

Will we actually need all this cold weather gear we are taking, or are we just lugging dead weight around.

I know from snowboarding experience that even if it is well below zero, if the sun is out it can be very hot. Most of the time snowboarding, I'm just wearing an outer shell jacket and pants, with a t-shirt underneath.

I had a bit of a brainwave and realised that the webcams that are normally on the pistes that I look at for snow conditions when snowboarding, will still be there over the summer. I found a couple of good links.

This webcam shows the view looking down into Chamonix:

http://www.chamonet.com/webcam/chamonix/36

Clearly dry and sunny in the valley. Snow on the tops of the peaks, so it looks like we are in for both sun and snow.

Here are some showing the aiguille du midi and other locations:

http://www.chamonix.com/webcam,12,en.html

Clearly still a lot of snow towards the top. People in short sleeves indicates it is pretty warm up there in the sun. It looks like the snow starts at somewhere above 3000 metres.

This one was from the Aigulle du Midi at 3,842 metres.

The Aiguille du Midi (Needle of Midday) is the top station of the cable car from the valley.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aiguille_du_Midi

So it looks like I'll need all the gear then!

these boots are made for walking

2010-07-20T05:02:00.000+01:00

I managed to force myself to get out and do some training this evening, but it was a struggle getting motivated being full of cold and zero energy.

However, I tried one of our new energy gel packs, and within 15 minutes I was feeling great.
So off I went with my packed backpack and hiked around the local fields and woodland, exploring new footpaths.

The walk itself was pretty uneventful, I racked up 6.5 miles over the hilly and uneven terrain, so it was a reasonable bit of exercise and good training for feet and ankles in the new boots. It was very humid, and the Ice Breaker t shirt (base layer actually) I was wearing was struggling to get rid of the sweat. However it didn't feel uncomfortable at any point. I also tried out the new wicking underwear, which was pretty comfortable, but you don't want to know too much about that.

The worst part of it was being attacked by flies for the second half of it. Everything form tiny midges and mosquitos to giant flies It rained lightly for the last few miles, which was quite welcome as it was refreshing and got rid of all but the most persistent of those damn flies.
There was a lot of walking through long wet grass, and the boots remained perfectly watertight throughout.

The backpack is still very comfortable, even fully laden.

Sick Note

2010-07-19T00:33:00.000+01:00

No significant training over the last few days. Through a combination of social events and being full of cold I've not managed to get out. Just have no energy, and get out of breath after just walking up the stairs, and all my joints seem to ache. I've been coming down with something gradually over the last week or so, and it seems to have finally taken over me.

David has been down with something similar too, though he seems worse, and we are both worried about how long it will take to recover and the affect on training. Also, I want to train, but don't want to risk prolonging my sickness, but am getting concerned about losing fitness now.

I've taken the opportunity to sort through my kit again and make sure everything is together. I've allotted the spare bedroom now as my Mont Blanc readiness room, with all my gear in. I need to make sure I've tested it all at some stage, and the various combinations.
Its amazing how little space a couple of grand's worth of kit takes up!

More Kit

2010-07-16T03:34:00.000+01:00

We made a return trip to Cotswold Outdoors in Birmingham again today, to sort out some kit issues David has, and to get the remainder of the kit sorted out. David's friend Russ came along - he will be joining us on the Kilimanjaro trip.

We met a different guy this time around instead of Dan, but equally helpful.
David had had an issue with his rucksack, and was considering changing to the 38 litre Mutant instead of our current 45 litre sack. The Cotswold guy made a compelling case, it was very much a stripped down bag, with all the peripheral paraphernalia removed for a true Alpine style. After some deliberation I decided to stick with the bigger bag, I didn't want to risk not getting all the gear in the smaller one. David came to the same conclusion after some more deliberation, but it was a tough choice.

We also picked up more base layers, and some lightweight walking shorts for the lower stretches of the Mont Blanc climb which will be in the warm valley of Chamonix and base of Mont Blanc.

The only other significant item for me was the down jacket for Kilimanjaro. I ended up getting a Large, which was too large, but the medium was too small. Wrapped up in this jacket I certainly look like a red and black version of the Michelin Man. I marvelled at how warm and light it was, and after a couple of minutes of wearing it in the shop I was desperate to get it off because it was too hot! David got the same jacket, so we are going to look like twins - but the choice of colours was 'red and black' or no jacket, so there is little option really.

Somehow we managed to spend another pile of money, even with the discount from Cotswold.

Watemead Challenge

2010-07-14T23:10:00.001+01:00

This evening April convinced me to join her and some of her friends from her running club in a charity race at Watermead Park in Leicester.

http://www.wreakevalleyrotary.org.uk/index/watermeadchallenge2010.html

It had been lashing it down all day, so I thought there was a good chance I would escape having to run, but 'miraculously' there was a break in the weather at 5pm so we went ahead with it.

My preparation for the race was ideal: I'd woken up with a head cold, skipped breakfast, and had a couple of biscuits (jammy dodger and custard cream) for lunch. So I was loaded with energy and enthusiasm and ready to go. I hastily ate a mini snickers and a glass of coke just to top me up.

After a quick dash to the bank for the entrance fee (we only had Scottish money left, and nobody seems to want it!) we made it on time. It turned out to be good fun. I found it pretty tough, but was pleased I pushed myself round the five mile course. I don't know what my time was, but sub 45 minutes (9 minute miles) so that's ok. It was actually good running with others, as it pushed me to go at a faster pace than normal.

Of course, as soon as we had finished the race it lashed it down again.

Gear Testing

2010-07-13T20:50:00.000+01:00

David said today that he had had problems with some of his gear when he trialled it over the weekend on a trip to Snowdon. It sounds like the weather conditions were atrocious, with driving rain. He had issues with gloves, rucksack, boots, waterproofs and base layers (ie most of the kit in some way). He is planning on going back to Cotswold on Thursday to talk to them and try and get it sorted.

Coincidentally I'd just been sorting out all my gear into one place (I've cleared out one of our bedrooms and hijacked it as my Expedition Preparation Centre...). Since it was lashing it down outside, I decided it was a good idea to trial some of the gear, so I went for a walk around the local woodland and explored a few paths. April joined me.
I wore everything I could (Ice Breaker base layer top, waterproof jacket, mountain trousers, waterproof over trousers, socks, boots, gaiters) and packed everything else into my backpack, including ice axe, crampons and helmet. I also filled up both the Camelback and the Sig water bottle So it was a pretty representative of the weight I would be carrying. The pack weighed in at a shade under 10 kilos. I reckon by the time I've added the remaining gear (hat, spare clothes, food etc) it will be up to 15 kilos. The good news is the pack wasn't full by any stretch, so I'm happy with that.

I'm sure I looked a complete fool walking round in way over the top gear (including ice axe strapped to me), but I'm glad I trialled it. April took great joy in watching me get wedged in a gate with my rucksack, and helpfully took a photo rather than rushing to my aid.

The snag list was:
* the buckles on the braces for the overtrousers are positioned under the rucksack shoulder straps, which is highly irritating.
* the boots hurt the arches of my feet, and my feet still move around inside them. More fiddling with the insoles required

So not too shabby. Also the gear has mud and grass on it, and looks a bit more used now. So hopefully I won't look like 'all the gear and no idea' in a few weeks...

T in the Park

2010-07-12T20:34:00.000+01:00

T in the Park actually turned out not to be a complete dead loss exercise wise, that is if you count walking miles and being on your feet for 12 hours a day in wet and/or windy conditions.
In all seriousness there was lots of walking, so not too much of a loss. On the downside a lot of beer was drunk and junk food was eaten.
T was good fun though, lots of good acts.

T in the Park

2010-07-08T20:58:00.000+01:00

Today's training consisted of carrying a backpack and pushing a wheelbarrow for a mile or two at T in the Park!
Camping in Scotland here with April, so we should get plenty of bad weather experience. Its currently raining.

Cycling Adventures

2010-07-07T21:09:00.001+01:00

We had an off site meeting today at Stanton Lakes, a water sports centre run by one of our managers and her family. They have a meeting room facility that we use when we need to be off site.

I decided to take advantage of the shower facilities and cycle there and back, about 12 miles according to google maps. Being completely disorganised this morning I managed to get the meeting time wrong, and fail to print out a map. That, combined with the fact that the bike tyres were flat when I got to the bike meant David ended up calling me after 9.00 when I was still some miles away to see where I was. Since I was late and somewhat lost, David came to collect me. Still, I'd done around 15 miles I guess over pretty hilly roads.
The journey back was better, armed with directions from David I managed the 13.6 miles home without incident. I had a puncture and had to walk the last mile, but the hard hilly work was done.

I also got to test out some of the gear. The Icebreaker base layer, liner gloves and liner socks all performed well. As did the rucksack I loaded up with gear. I gave the new boots a gentle breaking in too, until my feet hurt and I had to loosen them. They are becoming my biggest worry.

Anyway, good to get some exercise in before T this weekend.

Spending Spree

2010-07-05T11:38:00.000+01:00

This afternoon David and I went for a trip to Cotswold Outdoor in Birmingham, this time with the intention of actually buying something. We had arranged to meet Dan there, one of their kit experts at the store.

Armed with a kit list and a credit card we boldly entered the store and approached Dan, who kindly offered to relieve us of a large amount of money in return for some bags of kit.

The first item on the list was boots. David and I still aren't convinced about the Vega plastic boots, thinking they are overkill. The Scarpa Mantas look more like it, they are rigid enough to take crampons, but much easier to use than the Vegas.

We both tried these on, and with various combinations of inner soles managed to get some that fitted. We wore these as a trial while we did the rest of the shopping.

To cut a long story short, we ended up getting a large proportion of the gear: rucksack, head torch, camel bak and sig bottle for water, waterproof shell, inner fleeces, mountain trousers, base layers, gloves (inner and outer) socks, hats and a host of other stuff. By the time we got to the till we had a huge pile of bags. We got the boots too. We ended up walking out of the store with at least five bags each, plus a backpack on.

The boots continue to be a bone of contention for us, trying to decide between the plastic Vegas and the Mantas. I'm erring towards the Mantas, as I think they will do both jobs, but I'm still flip-flopping between them. One thing is for sure, there is only time to break one pair in, so a decision needs to be made.

Vega Trial

2010-07-01T23:05:00.000+01:00

I decided it was time for me to try out the new Vega plastic mountain boots, so I walked home from work in them. The only walking I'd done before was a couple of miles in Loughborough.

I now had new inner soles in them, so the fit was better - still a bit of heel movement, but workable.

I made it the 8.5 miles home without too much issue, averaging 16 minute miles. The boots are Ok to walk in, but are a bit awkward. They force you to walk fairly flat footed, and consequently pick your feet up higher. This means you end up using your legs a lot more to walk, and consequently use quite a bit more energy.

There is no real give in the boots, and I felt more like I was breaking my feet in to the boots, rather than the boots in. They are a bit more comfortable than waling in ski boots, but not as comfortable as as snow board boots.

Window Shopping

2010-06-30T11:47:00.000+01:00

I was on a training course in Birmingham today, and I spotted there was a Cotswold Outdoor store on New Street that was open until late. After the course I took a trip down there, armed with the kit list I had built up after Harrogate's visit.
Again, with no intention of buying anything, I skulked around the store avoiding the gaze of shopping assistants and their offers of help. I checked out various items, like gloves (tried dozens of combos of inners and outers til I found something that worked for my hands), waterproofs (saloupette style), jackets, thermals.

I looked at rucksacks again, and I still like the Berghaus 40+8 backpack that I saw in harrogate.

A useful visit, but still nothing purchased. I'm getting a really good idea of the kit I need now though.

Walking from Leicester Station to Thornton (almost)

2010-06-29T22:50:00.000+01:00

Check out the awesome shades!

After David left me in Harrogate yesterday, I thought it was an ideal opportunity to get some walking practice in by walking from Leicester railway station to home in Thornton (about 12 miles). David kindly offered to pick me up, but I needed the exercise anyway, and it would force me to get some decent walking practice in.

However, the plan was poorly though through on a number of counts. Firstly I'd spent all day on my feet at the Fire exhibition so I was already tired, especially from wearing smart (ie uncomfortable) shoes; secondly the only other shoes I had with me were some 'fashion' trainers that I'd tried walking in before and about as comfortable on any sort of distance as clogs.
Anyway, seeing as I'd stuck myself in this situation I thought I'd give it ago. I made it about a mile from the station into the city centre before the first signs of blisters appeared. Luckily it was just before 8pm, so I managed to get into Boots to grab some padded plasters for my heels. Taking my shoes and socks off in the middle of Leicester drew some attention, but not as much as attempt to turn the plasters into something usable - I'd managed to buy not a pack of plasters, but a whole giant one metre length of plaster that was impossible to tear into pieces. So I sat there for a good ten minutes trying to rip this thing up with my teeth and making a real hash of it.
Eventually I managed to get back on my way.

The walking was easy enough, but it was very hot, and I was dieing in my jeans and t-shirt, not to mention I was hungry and thirsty. All good practice though.

To cut a long story short, I made it as far as Glenfield before I had to re-do my plasters, sitting on someone's front lawn. By now my feet were very sore, and I was in danger of doing some damage that would take a while to heal. It was at this point I realised I had a knife in my bag, so at least spared myself the ordeal of gnawing at plasters again.
Determined to carry on, I decided to take my shoes off and walk in my socks for a while, which was ok to start, but soon became unbearable. I made it less than a mile to Groby, when I decided that discretion (sanity) was better part of valour (stupidity). I texted April 'Rescue Me', but knew she was out running with her club, so didn't fancy my chances of a speedy response. I soldiered on for another half a mile or so when April called and agreed to come and rescue me. We had a bit of debate about where I was and how to program the SatNav, and rescue was on its way.
So in the end I only made it eight miles, but its still exercise.

There was only one thing left for me to do, which was disapear into the pub I was (coincidentally...) standing outside of for a medicinal pint.

Kit Research

2010-06-29T11:25:00.000+01:00

I'm at Harrogate attending a Fire exhibition, and had an opportunity to skulk out and go to the local Cotswold Outdoors shop, a 20 minute walk from the exhibition centre, while one of the conferences was on.

I spent a lot of time talking to the shop stewards about ice axes, crampons, helmets, backpacks and so forth.

I had a good look around the store and picked out several thousands of pounds worth of kit that I would love to buy (but had no real justification for!). But I did talk to the staff there about the kind of kit that I would need, and they were very helpful. I managed to pick out some preferred items for a lot of the gear and put actual items against the kit list I have been carrying round on my phone. It all adds up to a frightening amount of money.

There was another customer there who pas planning on doing some mountaineering in China and was buying the Vega boots that David and I have, and I chatted to him for a while about that, which I found pretty useful. Nothing concrete to speak of, but just general confidence from talking to someone who had done a similar thing. The shop guy there that I talked to about the boots was also very helpful. I explained to him the problem with my Vega boots in that my feet slip around in them, and he offered to help. I couldn't remember what size my boots were, so we ended up getting practically every size out of the boots onto the shop floor while I tried them on to work out which was the right one. Eventually we found them, and we then tried a number of options for reducing the volume. The best option for me turned out to be some Sure Feet inserts that fit nicely into the inner boot. They reduce the volume, but also cup the heel a little to stop my narrow heels rubbing against the boots.

I felt guilty that I had monopolised their time for a couple of hours with no real intention to buy anything, so I bought the insoles as a token offering. However, if I'd known they were going to be the wrong side of 30 quid I wouldn't have bothered!

All in all very useful, and I reported my findings back to David. He is getting concerned, as am I, that we haven't made any real progress with the kit. Currently my kit list stands at one pair of insoles and some plastic mountain boots, that I don't even know if I will use on the actual mountain.

Oh the Irony

2010-06-28T11:08:00.000+01:00

Oh the Irony! Anyone who has ever seen me play golf (I recommend being at some distance) can't fail to have noticed that my driving has the biggest slice known to man. To any non golfers, this means that although the shot starts off straight, it takes a giant banana bend from left to right, and finishes up about 50-100 yards to the right of the target.

We played golf at the Fire Fighter's Charity golf day in Harrogate today, and one of the mini competitions they have was 'straightest drive'. There was a line drawn down the middle of one of the fairways, and the aim was to hit the ball to end up as close to the line as possible.
When my turn came, my strategy was do hit it has far left as I dared, and hope that the ball sliced back and landed somewhere near the line. To be honest, hitting the fairway at all was the main goal, which I'd been struggling with all day.
I aimed left, and hit a fantastic low slice (lets be generous and call it a 'fade') which swooped back in and bobbled along the fairway.
We couldn't believe it when we eventually arrived at the ball to find it literally an inch away from the line.

So, my biggest slice in the world, ultimately won the 'straightest drive'. Reminds me of the quote from White Men Can't Jump: 'The sun even shines on a dog's ass some days'

So this is what training feels like

2010-05-27T21:01:00.000+01:00

Ok, NOW I have some idea of the pain and anguish I will be in after these challenges. So far the challenge I have been most worried about is the Marathon. Firstly, I can’t even conceptualise running 26 miles – my mind just can’t compute running for four hours (ok five, six..?). That’s half a day at the office, or how long it would take me to drive to Scotland. Secondly, running isn’t my thing, I just don’t like it. No, that’s not doing it justice. I hate running with a passion. It doesn’t matter how ‘fun’ you try to make it, listening to an IPod, running through nice countryside, running with other people: It’s just the least fun sport on earth to me. My wife, April, on the other hand loves it. She run’s twice a week at least, rain or shine. April will be running the marathon with us, but by contrast has no interest in the mountain challenges. Horses for courses, I guess.

I used to be good at running. At school I ran numerous races, did lots and lots of training, entered races at County level in anything from 400 metres up to 5K or more. I was a member of the local athletics club at Loughborough University, and my mum will tell you, if you give her half a chance, that my running coach at school thought I had some potential. But I’ve never really liked running, cycling has always been my thing. Cycling can cover much more distance, and hence you can go further and see more things. You can go fast downhill, slow up hill, do technically challenging things. There is more challenge to it, more skill involved, more speed and more danger. And therein lies the rub for me, unless the training has some element of challenge or danger, I find it difficult to get motivated.

My training so far has involved some running of small distances (4 to 6 miles) and some cycling home from work on odd occasions (16 miles). The cycling comes fairly easily, and although tiring doesn’t leave me excessively aching. The tiredness is largely because the route home is so hilly, and the aches I do get make me feel good and like I’ve done some useful exercise. In contrast, the running makes me ache for at least three days afterwards, and reminds me why I hate running.
But in the last three weeks I’d done virtually know aerobic exercise. I’d played golf a number of times, but it doesn’t exactly stress the heart and lungs. The layoff had been from a combination of lack of opportunity, laziness and a minor injury to my left foot (a trapped nerve that gave me sharp pains if I put my foot down in a certain position, that position being ‘on the ground’). But it was now at the point that I needed to get out and do something. With Mont Blanc just two months away I needed to prove to myself I had some fitness, and to start building on it rapidly.

My plan was to run home from work, 16 miles. I would run as far as I could, and then walk the rest, and then run/walk until I made it home. The route is pretty hilly, and that’s exactly the training I needed for climbing mountains. I figured I could run six miles, walk a mile, run a mile etc, maybe walking the last three or four miles. Perhaps run eight miles or so in total.

However, my foot had been particularly painful today, so I decided to scale it down a bit. I wanted to leave myself with a distance that even if I couldn’t run it, I could walk it in a reasonable time. I decided to get April to drop me off at a point I know to be 10 miles from home (the golf club). I’d use the same plan, run for a while, then walk/run the rest. Even if I walked it all, it would take three hours and I’d be home before dark.

To my immense surprise, I managed to run the whole distance home, except for two stretches where I walked for 100 metres after some particularly long steep hills. With a time of 1hr 35 I was pretty happy.
I have to say, I was pretty exhausted when I got home, pretty much having hit the wall. The last mile was a real struggle, and just picking my feet up enough to get over kerbs was tough at the end!