Every Breaking Wave

A blog a little out of sync with my usual spoutings. Its a blog you may never get to read. Over the past 12 months I have written it about 100 times and deleted it each time. Sometimes it has acted as an outlet and other times it has acted as a frustration. It's entirely nothing to do with you and so in many ways, like social media, I question why i should write it at all? On the other hand we're encouraged to 'talk'. It's a serious subject that the media has made fashionable to talk about. Joe Marler being the latest to 'go public'. A rock of a man crushed by anxiety. Doesn't make sense does it?

I am kinda torn between getting it down, getting it written, publishing it - the click of the 'publish' button being the last act of total control - and not. After all its personal, the failings are personal, they're only in my control, they're harboured by me, protected. To publish is both an admission and a selfish attention seeking act. It also smacks of jumping on the bandwagon myself if indeed there is such a bandwagon - which there probably isn't. I would also question the validity of how i feel. To be able to rationalise it, break it down, get it down suggests, to me, its a falsity. A bit like when you're staggering around age 17 after two pints of Fools Gold telling everyone you're drunk. If you're aware you're drunk you're not yet drunk. Right? In the same way if you know you're losing it you can't actually be losing it. So I am inclined to take everything here with a pinch of salt. You, if you get to see it, should too.

'Sometimes I feel like I don't know
Sometimes I feel like checkin' out
I want to get it wrong
Can't always be strong
And love it won't be long'

I am often chronically sad and utterly consumed by grief and within the same moment I can be totally happy and full of joy. Don't get me wrong, in many ways I am the luckiest man alive. I am overwhelmed with love from Michelle and my two wonderful kids. I live vicariously through them. All the good, the joy, comes from them. Everything I wish I was I see in them. I see people every day in my job who literally have the world on their shoulders. They're crushed by immobility. Some of them have known nothing but the restrictions they live by and some have had their previous freedoms taken away by illness or accident.They are without choice. Their situation is beyond their control. I'm crushed by choice. By a weight of grief and sadness exacerbated by stress brought on by failure and excuses. My failure and excuses. I'm even failing in my attempts to stop failing and yes I have excuses for that too. I've always had excuses for my failures.

I've unraveled before. A couple of times. The last time was 2006 when I tried to get myself out of debt that only led to more intense debt that magnified the stress that exacerbated the sadness and grief. Thoughts darken, solutions less clear. Anxiety constant and panic instant and prolonged. Exhaustion unavoidable and the nightmares keep sleep a fleeting visitor. Bankruptcy a brief relief but resulting in a subsequent constant battle to stay afloat, to provide the basics, to breathe.

I'm here again, losing the battle. Unraveling. I'm trying to make the right decisions, facing my mistakes but I am being tested. Severely tested. My home is no longer a sanctuary. It's a noose, a weight, a restriction. I have no voice, no place. Fear is palpable, stunning in it's impact, inducing a sudden spike in heart rate, uncontrollable shakes and quivering voice. It's brought on by the simplest of things. One of the kids asking if they can have a couple of quid to top up their Xbox account or for a spot of lunch while out. Nothing major, they rarely ask for anything and certainly nothing unreasonable. The biggest fear is using a debit card. Even on pay day before the direct debits go out it's the scariest of moments placing it on a contact less pay unit with the wait to see 'approved' lasting an instant eternity. The post and the calls and deciding which bill we do or don't pay each month and the rapid escalation of cost in penalties for missing this and missing that.

I've battled debt for as long as I can remember. When I first got pocket money I bought a football in advance of the pocket money over the next 6 weeks. From then on I have been in debt. My paper round money came to me as a fraction of my pay after all the sweets and Coke through the week were taken off. My bar money would be non existent on pay day after the Strongbows were deducted. I then became a prized customer of Barclaycard, MBNA, EGG and whoever else. Almost tripping over themselves to give me credit I would never be able to repay, it would be easy to look at them and pass the blame. I could blame being part of a credit generation, the immediate generation. Of course that's not the case and it doesn't help to pretend otherwise.

I have allowed myself to become affected by the negativity of others. It's surprising just how much of an effect a negative influence can have. Negativity chips away. It doesn't hit in one impact, it doesn't overwhelm in an instant. It's a gradual stripping of defenses. A little bit here and a little bit there. It pushes down with a steady increase in pressure until your own outlook becomes negative. It doesn't even need to be aimed directly at me although some of it is. It's being around it, witnessing it, others laziness, reluctance to help themselves, their selfishness, their lack of respect for themselves and those around them, seeing negativity being inflicted on others.

Staying strong and positive is hard. In many ways I am surrounded by it and I am often relying on the positivity of others, leeching off it, stealing it, however it does become harder to do. Moments of clarity can become few and far between but with each one the relief, the release, the weightlessness is wonderful. Equinox 24 provided a whole weekend of being surrounded by positivity. 48 hours of being in a happy place with kind souls, no judgement just support. The determination, strength, kindness and achievement of others is infectious, healing, necessary.

I am mocked, lovingly, for my tears. Often they're entirely reasonable. Everyone wells up when Doc appears on the pit wall in Cars right? Or when Matt Dawson breaks to set up Johnny Wilkinson's World Cup winning drop goal? When it becomes more than that though. Uncontrollable. It might be a story on the news or the radio, a radio presenters husband talking about her last days battling breast cancer, a policeman describing his efforts to save a colleague, a story of a brief awakening from dementia brought on by a TMS commentary or the presenter thanking the nation for a deluge of well wishes for his wife's recent cancer battle, a moment after an assessment that brings everything home. Often something without explanation, an exceptional song, an exceptional sporting moment, a reminder or a memory. It's not always tears. It can be a freezing, a solid grip that takes hold in a moment that becomes prolonged, locked in.

'You know I need you to be strong
And the day is as dark as the night is long
Feel like trash, you make me feel clean
I'm in the black, can't see or be seen

Baby, baby, baby light my way'

I am lucky to come home each day to Michelle and the kids. It might be a dig in the arm from George or an introduction to the indecipherable language of a teenager from Ellie that snaps me back but more often than not it's a hug from Michelle, a look, a smile, a glint that says everything in absolute silence. She has a knack of timing a text, singing a song, stealing a glance or a touch, to perfection. She carries, she inspires, she loves unconditionally, selfless.

I don't intend to unravel completely, I don't think I will. The joy and happiness and love I absorb will always outweigh the fear, sadness and grief. Whilst the grief is constant it wavers in intensity and is directly linked to pressure and stress. Sometimes I can be grieving without any impact on the moment whilst in the next I can be floored by it. Reduced to a wreck.

'Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you'

If I can rationalise it I can control it. If I can control it I can see through it and grow from it. The weight isn't physical but it's no less crushing. The battle is constant, the extremes instant and constantly switching. The Facebook Smile is always a con. Too often we hear of a suicide of someone behind the smiling profile picture. The perfect social media life. It's considered the cowards way out by many (probably those who haven't considered it) but in reality it's the ultimate bravery, the final selfless act when someone can't see a way out. Perhaps considered the only rational conclusion to an entirely irrational process. To erase the problem blighting the lives of everyone else. Freeing them to live.

Nothing is perfect in life or in a virtual world. The restrictions are too great. I can't truly speak my mind. I can't be honest for fear of impacting someone else's sensitivities, upsetting the narcissistic sociopaths that cling to a connection, a tenuous tedious link to someone they don't like, to monitor, to Big Brother, so they can be outraged, so they can choose to take offence, to be the victim they long to be, when the meme pops up that they deem to be about them, to be a slight or a virtual attack, because the world (despite science suggesting otherwise) rotates around them. I've stepped away to do whats right, face my failings, take stock of my mistakes that cause the pressure, that lead to the stress, that create the weight. Make things right.

'And drowning is no sin'

EQ24 '18 - Nowhere to Hide

On the Friday night we were all calmed with a two hour set of Motown and Northern Soul. The Detroits gave us a set of energy and smiles and for those two hours - with a quick break for the Beer Mile - we could all relax and forget about weather, trainers, nutrition, how many laps, That Hill, chaffing, blisters, lack of training and injuries. Equinox is special to me, to many of us and I am not going to bang on again as to why, but this year it got a little bit more special. The Detroits are Roger on drums, Craig on lead guitar, Scott on bass guitar, Kevin on sax and Paul up front as lead singer. The other lead singer is our very own Michelle. She was taking her first step into the world of solo running. I've never seen her smile as much as when she is singing. She is truly free. At Equinox she was the most relaxed at the front of The Detroits as I have ever seen her. Afterwards, her comment was "it was like performing for a tent full of family and friends". For me, the energy in the marquee, particularly during the second set (they build it deliberately) was palpable, absorbent and infectious. I've talked in the past about the millionaires we would all be if we could bottle the essence of Equinox24. Bottling whatever was in the air that night would have been 'it'.

We set up site that afternoon. Team Poppyfields were in place. A wonder around the site throughout the afternoon allows a catch up with fellow Equinoxers both new and old. Attempts to give away the morphsuits failed. Discussions about injuries, training or lack of and the important "how many laps you going for?" were the main topics of conversation. Everyone is lovely. Bemused sometimes about what some of us would be doing, but always lovely and entirely supportive.

Race day dawned. I slept in until about 9am. Nick, the Team Poppyfields one man support crew, dished me up two bacon and egg cobs and I meandered up to seek out the physio team. It seems it's becoming a pre race tradition of mine. I told them the story, eyes roll as if to question the sanity of starting, then they get to work. Immediately the exact two spots in my calf giving me a problem are found and wow did it make me jump. She ironed out my calf as best she could, taped me up to give me the best chance and sent me on my way. I left Flamingo Lady on the table next to me and wished her luck. The next runner in line stepped forward to explain their niggles in the hope she would have the answer they needed. A quick lucky poo (obviously), the trial of popping in contact lenses, a full greasing of the underscrote and some fuel and water and, as much as anyone can be, I was ready for my 5th attempt at Equinox. My 3rd real attempt at 100 miles.

On the subject of 100 miles don't think I thought I could run 100 miles. With 8 weeks to go I was feeling strong and I was gaining fitness. All this really did was give me the confidence to have a real good go at 17 laps. To run 100 miles you have to be up a fair few levels of talent from 'fat winger' no matter how mentally strong you think you might be. The problem at 8 weeks out was a calf injury that required complete rest and then another tweak in a different spot of the same calf a week before. What that did was dampen my confidence and leave me with a more conservative approach. More of a just try and keep going for 24 hours and see what that brings in laps. 10 would be nice, 13 a PB, anything above pretty much wonderland territory.

I lined up with Ellie going out first in a team of 5, Mich & Georgina (soon to be known as the Singing Solos) and Ken, all virgin solos and Neil who was tackling his second Equinox as a solo but without the weight of dragging a fat Morph around the course with him.

Lap 1 and 2 were fine. Slow and steady, walk the hills, run the flat and downhills, fuel at the end of lap 2. The problem was it hammered it down during lap 2. Now I agree rain isn't normally a problem, after all skin is waterproof and all that, but in the morphsuit it gives me real issues with controlling my temperature and visibility. Many people were caught out by the rain. My temperature immediately dropped and my vision became more and more cloudy as the suit reached maximum soakage capacity. I ran in to the end of Lap 2 at about 2hrs 40mins on the clock. As long as I was out by 3hrs that was fine. I changed my under layers, dried out the top of the morphsuit over the fire pit, inhaled a jacket spud with cheese and beans and set off on lap 3 coincidentally with Ken and Neil.

We trudged off the ever muddening field together. Ken made an emergency stop at the crossroads portaloos and they both caught me up before we turned onto The Shitty Bit.

It was on the upflat start to The Shitty Bit I felt my calf go. It was a vicious little pop. I looked round for the sniper but the morphsuit meant I couldn't see my hands let alone an American Sniper 1000m away. So, within the first km of lap 3 I had had enough. Ken and Neil cracked on thankfully. Neil had learnt from last year that solo is an entirely selfish enterprise. He sacrificed an easy 10 laps last year to worry about me whereas this year, with my absolute blessing, he had his own race to run. I walked to the bottom of Not That Hill and I was ready to jack it in. The decision, the sensible and justifiable decision, was to give up and walk back to camp. Two runners then went past and said something nice. Lots and lots of runners were utterly lovely to me throughout the weekend but these two bestowed their loveliness at exactly the right time. I can't remember what they said I just remember thinking that it was a pivotal moment. I had just decided to walk back to the camp and instead I found myself walking up Not That Hill and most of the way to Hi 5 kid before I had a drink at the feed station. The calf was as painful to run on as it was to walk so I ran the rest of the lap in (apart from walking up That Hill of course).

Lap 4 was ace. I've no idea why but I was back to my strategy of run/walk. The calf was painful but I weirdly felt strong. Chatting with other runners helps massively and i am nosy so i am quite happy to hear their stories as to what brings them to be walking up a steep tarmac hill chatting to a morphsuited gangster!

The pain was manageable and again I ran the last 3km in feeling strong while chatting to a fellow runner who felt she should say hello as she had seen me in previous years but not had chance to speak. Whilst in my head I had whizzed round in about 1hr 15mins the reality was probably 1hr 40mins. That didn't matter as i felt good. Positive.

For lap 5 I had changed into the polka morphsuit and as I was concerned I could get caught out by the loss of light towards the end I went out with my head torch. I should explain that last year I made the decision to run in an unaltered morphsuit whereas in my first 3 attempts I had cut eye holes in the night morpshuit. I had adapted the morphsuits previously because I could't see anything in the dark no matter how good the torch was. It just lights up the inside of the morphsuit. Last year I worked a system of head torch on cap and the peak of the cap kept the light off the suit which allowed me to see a tiny tiny bit of light. Enough to get round but I would say that vision is down to about 25%. Think of being your most drunk, in the dark, with a rolling fog and looking through an ever shrinking tube with a piece of gauze over the end!

The lap went well and again I felt strong. At the time I felt that lap 4 & 5 were my strongest. The finish was much the same as 4 and again a runner kindly ran the last 3km with me making it so much easier. She was telling me about The Singing Solos who were apparently doing a full rendition of The Greatest Showman while running the course. From the description I am pretty sure I know who they were and it transpires Michelle and Georgina were easing their way around their first Equinox Solo attempt by entertaining themselves and others with their vocal talents.

I had one other to worry about while on course which was my eldest, Ellie. It seems I needn't have worried. She smashed lap 1 in 53 minutes which was a near 20 minute personal best. The pics captured by Glenn and his team brilliantly capture Ellie making running look as easy as I wish it was!

I finished lap 5 but I made the mistake of stopping and sitting for a while. I got cold and changed a few under layers but I used this an excuse to sit by the fire pit to warm up. I had a snooze and kept delaying going out. I think I was fearful of temperature issues on the course but I delayed too long. I did eventually go back out for lap 6 but I had by then probably lost the mental battle with myself.

I don't really remember much about lap 6 other than the fact it was so difficult to see where I was going. I don't remember chatting with people although i am sure I did. I don't remember That Hill in the dark. I do remember lots of bobbing lights and a support team down the back straight letting me warm my ass over their fire pit. I finished the lap and waited for Michelle to come in from her lap and i would then assess whether to go out again at all. What I had done through that lap was convince myself I was unable to carry on much further and I justified this through the pain in my leg and now right knee. The slips in the mud, the turned ankles in the invisible pot holes and the overall tiredness becoming too much.

We had a chat when she got back from her lap. It was 1 am or 2 am and we decided to walk a lap together and see how we felt afterwards. Had Michelle not made me go out on that lap I would have finished at 6 as I had the year before. Physically, probably, able to continue but mentally, probably, just not up to the challenge. She quite literally dragged me round the first 5km. I was now sure this would be my last lap and my body was responding accordingly by emphasising pain and tiredness. I stumbled whilst dozing a few times only for Michelle to keep me going. We made it to the feed station and i sat for a few minutes. This was definitely my last lap so i removed the hood of the morphsuit. I have done this in the past to either drink or eat but my rule is that I don't move without the hood on. This time I left it off. Cheating yes but my day was done so I justified it to myself as reasonable. Michelle put her back out going down the dip on the grass after the feed station. She had no real choice but to get through the lap. As she had done for me for the first 5km I supported her through the last 5km. It's nothing new for us. Whatever challenges we take on we always take on as a team. Lap 7 was our final lap. 17.5 hours and 45 miles was our solo efforts for 2018.

Being able to see for the last 5km was a revelation. The course is so beautiful and being able to see the ground ahead, the trees, fellow runners made it so much easier. This has raised the question of whether I should adapt the morphsuits for future attempts. To make the attempt at 100 Morph miles easier. The problem with that is that I have my own rules. The challenge is 100 Morph miles which requires 100 miles fully morphed. Hood and all. So, its staying as it is.

Ellie stayed awake for the full 24 hours. She was so out of it on the drive home as exhaustion set in. For a girl who claims not to like running, does a couple of 5km runs per week she blasted 4 laps in a team of 5 runners. Her quickest? An insane 53 mins! She is so much a better runner than she realises and tougher than I can ever be. It's easy for me to live vicariously through Michelle, Ellie and George. They're all everything I aspire to become.

I was disappointed with my effort because I expected better but I was thrilled with Georgina's 6, Michelle's 7, Ken's 8 and Neil's 10. How can I be thrilled for them and disappointed with myself? It's due to the pressure and expectation I place on myself. Fully fit or niggly injury I always have high expectations for myself and disappointment kicks in when I know I can and should have done better.

I learned a lot from EQ18 that I will take forward to next year. The most simple change being the addition of a weather proof running jacket. My fueling was better, no nasty visits to poo corner, and to a point I felt strong. The calf situation is a bit of a red herring. Yes it hampered my preparation, yes it hurt like a bastard initially but the truth is it didn't stop me. I stopped myself and failed to keep going for 24 hours. Next year things will be different.

Anyway, I had a kip for 3 or 4 hours with an intermittent cramp on and off in my right calf. I finally dragged myself out of bed and then supported runners up the finish straight. Some I got to talk to, have a hug with, pat on the back. Others were clearly unapproachable at that stage but I like to think that every shout of encouragement helps even when you're just too knackered to acknowledge it.

As the Poppyfields Teams finished we crossed the line together twice so ignore the official results suggesting I did 9 or 10 whatever it says. Whilst my own fundraising got nowhere near my target and as a result I was never at risk of having a Unicorn tattoo despite my poor performance, Team Poppyfields raised a fantastic £2000 and thank you to everyone that helped with that. After all that's why we do it. Over the weekend a figure in the region of £3500 in total was raised for Birmingham Children's Hospital and their research and treatment of child brain tumours.

A huge thank you to all of you out there that weekend particularly Michelle and Ellie, George and Nick, Johnny and Laura, their crew, volunteers, Glenn and his photographers, Matt and the caterers, physio, medics and supporters. To you fellow runners for the laughs, the camaraderie, the kindness, the strength, the one liners, the belief and the love. From the minute I pull up at Belvoir Castle to the minute I leave its my happy place, a stress free weekend of intensity, discomfort, moaning, laughs, hugs, high fives, disappointment and joy. See you all in 2019 when I am no longer fucking about, I will be fully morphed and I will be doing 17 laps even if Johnny has to stay out until it's dark!

Thank you.