Why? Personal thoughts on motivation

N.B. This post is very self serving, so I don't expect it to be read!

I was asked to give a talk about the recent Lands End to John O’Groats cycle. Of course I was happy to do it, but in order to “pad” it out a little, I thought I’d try and express to the group why these type of events are becoming commonplace for me. Why do I challenge myself? What makes me so weak-willed to agree to sign up for pretty much anything stupid?  When trying to make sense of it, it became an equally revealing and cathartic process, For purely selfish reasons I wanted to write it down - and it may also help to explain things to my family who just accept now that I am weird without knowing why!

The first time I ever took to a start line was the Broadmoor Hospital 9 mile sponsored walk when I was 6 years old. (I'm the competitive one in the blue tracksuit top). There I met my then-hero Jimmy Saville. It was meant to be a walk but I ran it, which was probably a good idea given the subsequent revelations about said celebrity!
It clearly had an impact on me. It was a long way, a big effort for my little legs, there was a real sense of achievement and it is something I still remember very clearly.  

In blue and unnecessarily competitive as ever 

It was not the big impact though. When I was just 12, I was small and a bit plump. Dad had read a book by Eric Newby called Around Ireland in Low Gear. Given we go to Ireland every year my Dad's plan was for my brother and I to join him on a cycle up the west coast from Limerick to Donegal. 

I was clearly the weakest - both physically and emotionally. 

We had no concept of preparation. There was no training, no idea about what kit to bring and no idea about pacing. There was also no concept of padded shorts! 

Chris (right) clearly thrilled to be spending quality time with his 'simple' younger brother!

The plan was to ride 200 miles in 7 days - 28 miles a day. 

We took tents, camping gear, sleeping bags, lots of changes of clothes, bike locks. You name it, we packed it into our massive panniers. I literally couldn't pick my bike up, they had to help me!

Packing light and enjoying a rest 

I “won” the first day, but by the second day I started to quickly unravel. I soon feel behind the gentle pace set by the others. When I got close to them, they set off again meaning I didn't get a rest. 

I was slow and weak, and I hated it. 

I was tired, increasingly grumpy and wasn't good at handling it. 

I was slowing them down and I hated it. 

After a never ending long drag uphill, into the wind, I eventually got to them. There were many expletives that I would have wanted to say, but as an innocent 12 year old I didn't know any. Instead when I got to them I threw my bike down and said “do we have to go any further”. I immediately knew that it wasn't what I wanted to say. They looked at each other, laughed and pointed out the obvious given that we were in the middle of nowhere.

I remember being angry at them for not waiting, but reminiscing now, I realise that I was actually embarrassed. I was weak, couldn't keep up and there was nothing that I could do about it.

We averaged 15 miles a day but to me those few miles felt like 100. With very sore bums, more waiting for me and a little journey on a bus (!) we made it to the end. I felt fitter and remember the sense of accomplishment but without doubt, the bike throw incident made the biggest impact. 

Carrying an unbelievable amount of kit!

Reading my conclusion of the trip brings tears to the eyes - next time, take the train!

That was pretty much it for long challenges. I was happily distracted by team sports throughout School and University. At uni I remember my housemates talking about a marathon and one of them said that I wouldn't be able to do one given my size and height. I didn't feel the need to prove them wrong at that time, but the challenge had been set. So a few years later, when my brother offered me his place in the 2000 London Marathon, with just 4 weeks notice, I took it. 

I was pretty fit from rugby, but I had no idea at all how to do a marathon. I just ran when I could and quickly built up the distance. The weekend before I went for my long run and got carried away and ended up running for 5 hours. When the day came, it was hot, I was wearing 2 t-shirts, new trainers and I was still tired from the week before. I went off too quickly, and the wheels well and truly came off at mile 16. It was a suffer-fest and I crawled to the finish line. It was a miserable experience. I could barely walk, but with my medal around my neck and in a heap on the roadside, my first thought was that I well and truly screwed that up.  I didn't contemplate quitting, but knew that I had let myself down, I had missed my target and knew that I would need to do another one. 

How not to do your first marathon. That's not Jimmy Saville again by the way!

And I did. I trained and learnt how to prepare. The following year I ran London and loved it. I then took this fitness and ran marathons in Death Valley (Nevada), Dublin, Stockholm, Dubai, Belfast and 3 marathons in 3 days along the Jurassic Coast. 

Then the big challenge was set - 6 marathons in 6 days through the Sahara Desert in an event known as The Marathon des Sables. The test is not just the heat and the distance you need to cover each day, but it is self supported, meaning that apart from water rations you have to carry everything you need for the week. This is where I am sure that the bike throw down experience fuelled me. Back then there was no preparation and I was weak as a result. If I did not prepare this time, the implications could be much more severe, and no one would be there to just laugh and pick up my bike for me. 

I trained really hard. I stopped playing rugby and turned into a thin runner. Some of the training runs were stupid. Running marathon distances on Friday night and another on Saturday morning. Taking the train out to Maidenhead and running 50 miles through the night along the Thames Tow Path back into London. Running without socks and with sand in my shoes to prep for blisters. Packing my back with 30kgs and walking for 6 hours. I was fitter and more prepared than I ever have been. 

The run itself went really well. I stuck to my plan and steadily built my pace throughout the week and finished really strongly. The key learning was that I had to control the controllable. You can't do anything about the heat, but you can eat the right food, wear the right kit, look after your feet and stay hygienic. I loved it. Weirdly the only disappointment was that it wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. I didn't have the bike throw down moment but then I did everything I could to avoid it. 

Loving the Sahara Desert

So I did another similar race in Namibia, IronMan triathlons in Austria and the New Forest, and ran Comrades in South Africa and a 100 miles along the South Downs Way. My feet started causing me some issues so I switched to canoeing and completed the Devizes to Westminster and several long distance swimming events. All were very hard work, but again the training paid off and I didn't let myself or anyone else down.  

Out of all the stupid events I have completed, the one I was most fond of was in 2015. We still go to Ireland every year so I decided that I would cycle from door to door and meet the family at the end, covering 400 miles in 4 days. During that trip I had a lot of time to think about the journey we took when I was 12. The difference couldn't have been more stark. For a start I wore padded shorts! I trained for it, took very little kit. My bike would have weighed about a 1/4 of the weight that my mountain bike would have been all those years ago. There was no medal at the end, no one to compete against, I planned the route, the logistics and I loved every second of it.

My bike to get to Ireland in 2015 couldn't have been more different from the one back in 1989

It is not just the experience doing an event, but I love the process of preparing for something.  I think I enjoy training just as much as the race/challenge itself.

The reason why this reflection has been so insightful for me is that I now realise why. I have no interest in trying to win the races I enter. There are always far more talented people taking part in these things. No, I like to compete and if I finish high up then I am happy. The position I finish is irrelevant - I just try and do as well as I can. What I realise now is that I prepare as well as I can so that there are no bike throwing moments. I loved that trip all those years ago. It was a proper adventure. Spending time with my Dad and brother. Seeing the stunning west coast of Ireland and travelling under our own steam. I was however clearly the weakest of the group and now I realise that I was embarrassed by it. Without really knowing it, the trip has shaped my attitude to everything since. Whilst I train to avoid it, I guess I am testing whether I ever physically/mentally get to the bike throwing moment again. If I do, then the real challenge now is how I would react.

I'm lucky to be able do these things and I hope to be physically capable of doing lots more. Keeping the right balance between family, work and these selfish pursuits is not lost on me though. Family comes first, and whilst fun, all this is trivial and self-centred.

At 9 and 6, its just a little too soon to take the girls with me, but they better be ready because I have plans for them. Unlike my Dad though, I will buy them a pair of padded shorts!

I haven't read this yet - but this book started it all.