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My first Ultramarathon

For Ivan and Stevie,

The Wall 2019 what an adventure…..

It all started on the 14th June when I packed my bags and took off for Carlisle to attempt to run the wall, the real start was almost 12 months previously on the 6th July 2018 while walking towards a church in Holywood. While carrying my great friend and teammate to his final resting place, the thought came in my mind-to do an adventure. This unfortunately not been the first the team I played on for twelve great years came together again, our first shock came on the 7th November 2017 when we lost Stevie, taken too soon, cruelly and to this day, unexplained and the hurt never goes away.

This started with a thought as I carried my friends coffin then became, not a journey to the wall, not a journey of training for a race. This became a journey of grieving and coming to terms of the senseless loss of my two friends, of two amazing life’s not lived, families left with no father, of friendships, a brotherhood cut short too soon. Only memories to carry forward. I cried a lot from then, I cried as I trained and a loss I still struggle to come to terms with.

This was a selfish journey of finding out for myself what life is really about in the face of this crippling grief I felt and still feel to this day. I wanted to hurt, I wanted to feel closer to my friends and to try to come to terms within my own headspace.

Quite poignant played in my head through so many hours of the race and to this takes me back to those miles in the North of England. It always reminds me of it, it must have been playing somewhere as when I hear it, it always takes me back.

As the flight took off after three and a half hour delay from Belfast City Airport to Edinburgh, there were no nerves only relief that my journey had now started and panic at missing my re-arranged train to Carlisle. I was surprised there no nerves, just looking forward to getting to Carlisle, getting registered and then eating a nice meal. It was only as I registered and noticed everyone seemed to know everyone else, I didn’t feel any nerves, the sun was shining. I’d made it, I was here. I’d a lot still to prepare and go through, focused on the small details of getting myself prepared to run, bags needed bagged. I got all registered and was walking back to hotel, drop off my pack and then get food. I was excited, happy, almost giddy at the adventure that I was setting off one.

As I prepared for the run, the training was brutal, I was broken on so many times on 30 mile training runs, my legs hurt, my knees hurt, my back was in constant pain-everything hurt and I had so many doubts. It was only in May 2017 I had been diagnosed with a prolapsed disk after what was my last rugby match and I could not even tie my own shoes. In my training runs, alone, always alone I thought constantly of my friends, endless questions of why, constant what-if’s. I was further plagued my doubt and the pain, every training run, every weights session. I always felt I was never good enough but I always tried to channel that energy into getting back up and going again. As Confucius said,

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall”.

When I told people it was always a laugh or a total dismissal of the idea that I had lost my mind and maybe I had. I was on my own journey, I trained every mile on my own, alone in my own thoughts. Every gym session, every swimming recovery session, just myself and my amazing coach looking on from afar; Adam Boyd-Brown. That man has transformed my life, not made me fitter or stronger but a better person and I’m proud to call a friend after the journey we have shared.

I fell, I got chased by dogs, I fell again. People looked at me as who was this sweaty bald man, clearly not a runner, I was laughed at, I fell again. I was training in January around the North Down Coastal route and I could not see 1 foot in front of me, the rain, the hailstones where so bad I had to my head so low. With all the negativity, one thing always shone through was the support of my family and the rugby club-the guys at the club with a special mention to Paul and Barry where always so supportive and encouraging. I trained alone but I had a whole rugby family behind me, every step I took. And as I embarked on long runs I’d always look to my left, my right and just say

I was merely alone in physical terms, I was never alone in spirit.

The night of the run, after a Nando’s and I was back in the hotel room, I had packed and re-packed, packed again, I had phoned my wife and son earlier and they were so excited. I missed them terribly and now that kicked in. I made final packing on my bag to carry, my bag for second checkpoint at 22 miles and a change bag for 45 miles. I laid out my stuff for morning then the texts started….

I think every player, past and present messaged, family, they all chipped in. It was one series of messages from my great friend Gareth that really captured my feeling…

Run

Jog

Walk

Limp

Crawl

Finish

I was completely determined and I had my plan, there were 5 pit stops where I could get refill my water and get some coffee and snacks. In between was at least one checkpoint where we could get a small cup of water. I had broken it down into each pit stop as the target and then intermediates, I had a plan on a little piece of paper and in my head, brick by brick, smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast. I got this!

I woke at 4am, barely able to sleep, it was go time, woke up and tried to get my four boil in a pots of porridge and got myself all ready. It was tough to get that porridge in but I knew I needed every kilojoule. In between, being fair of skin I needed to layer up on suncream, of course-put on a little too much and looked in mirror and it was casper staring back at me. At least I won’t burn, f**k it!

I put on my t-shirt that I had specially annotated with Stevie and Ivan’s initials, above all else, I just wanted to make them proud.

I left the hotel and came out onto the street, suddenly I felt like everyone was looking at me, I joined the small stream of runners and supporters walking towards Carlisle Castle at 6.15am, I have never felt as much of an imposter in my life, I noticed everyone’s bags was smaller, everyone looked like Mo Farah! Then I remembered what a friend once told me about Imposter Syndrome-why shouldn’t it be me, why hide, stand tall and walk on. I’m doing what I think is correct;

As I got to start line and dropped off my three bags, I walked towards start line and did the usual oh I really need the toilet, no I don’t-yes I do, every sporting event I get that, its only nerve and tightening around the organs. Then after seeing the massive queue I just thought-I’ll wait… and then passed even more Mo Farah-look-a-likes on my way.

My struggle against my self-sabotage of imposter syndrome was struggling.

I made it into Carlisle Castle grounds and for the first time I almost broke down, I was crippled with fear, I couldn’t do this, what was I thinking. I made my way to the back of the crowd inside the starting ropes, where I felt I belonged. I went to one knee and prayed. I was terrified, as I knelt down I could feel myself crying, I was sick to my stomach, How could I do this. I prayed, not for a miracle but for the strength, the strength to not stop when the pain became too much, I asked for the strength to not give in as the pain that I knew was coming-arrived. The longest I had run was 30miles, this was 69, I just couldn’t…..I was paralysed with fear but I knew I had to do it. I will never forget that paralyzing fear on that start line.

I was waiting around and thought I recognised a few faces that I had been sharing training tips with online and said Hello, and they didn’t recognize me which wasn’t great so I still lingered and just thought feck this, I know no one else and I’ve already said Hello so I’ll tag along anyhow. Hopefully I will fall in with someone to run at some point. One step at a time.

As we headed off and started running, I stuck to these three, Liz, Michelle and Stuart. We lost Stuart after two miles as he said he would catch up, the first few miles where at a slow steady pace, large crowds and narrow paths but was ideal as I was still crippled with fear and I was able to try to speak and hopefully get a few miles with these guys. As we ran through the miles, the pace was 10 minute miles and the craic was really good. Everyone was spreading out so clear roads, it was nice weather for 7am, not hot and no rain. At 7 miles, Michelle pulled up with a tight leg and would catch up, this was Liz and I left.

Less than an hour previously we had never met and now we are running the Wall.

There were very few quiet moments, we chatted and laughed and we ran, Liz was dreaming of a mug of tea at the first pit stop and as we went up and down over hills towards the 15 mile point and the first check point. There was a magical moment as we came around the corner into that first checkpoint, it was a church grounds (Lannercoast) in rural Cumbria and the crowd was 3+ deep with supporters. We had such a rousing welcome, it was really quite special. I felt like a filmstar and it was a checkpoint, a drink and a loo!

As we left the checkpoint, most annoyed as no tea or coffee, we didn’t wait around long and the sun was starting to beat down. We got back on the road and finally we came into contact with Hadrian’s Wall and the pace had become steady, we chomped up straight miles on flat roads and tried a fast walk on inclines, measuring the effort yet I still felt close to the red line on the long roads but Liz was as strong so I just got on with it! Liz was unflinching and she was such an inspiration and so funny as all she wanted was a cup of tea!

We moved towards the next pitstop at 25miles, I was tiring, although we passed some felloe runners and one was in sandals. What kind of people go out running in a pair of sandals. I just thought I love everyone on this race. We are all mad! We had to go up a huge hill to Walltown Quarry, the legs where starting to shake and I was trending towards unknown territory, my anxiety was coming back as pain was front and centre. I just tried to focus on the guy in the sandals and if he can do it.

We made it to the stop and I got a sandwich, my stomach was delicate, I wanted a hot drink but I could barely spoon out coffee so made a poor attempt, it was shit but it was hot so it was acceptable. I filled my bottles and went to get my small bag that I had to collect. I suddenly realized I had lost Liz and inside I was in mad panic, we had come this far, would she have run on? I was so worried, starting to get that horrid feeling in my stomach that I’m alone and I was sockless at this point so just focused on changing my socks and then I’d have a look. Then I seen Liz and I was shouting and she couldn’t hear me as this checkpoint was full of runners and supporters and well wishers. Thankfully she appeared, took a wise decision and went to a small kiosk outside of the pitstop to get a decent cup of tea from a van! I suddenly lost my anxiety and replaced my total jealousy, I’d love a decent cup of coffee.

We took off again, it had got really cold and stopping in this exposed area had not helped. We started to run and then quickly came to the highest point of the event, it was an absolute brute. My lungs and legs were on fire. Yet as I climbed the views over Cumbria, Northumbria and as far as the Scottish highlands were absolutely spectacular. I tried to keep head up as my knees where really starting to hurt, I previously suffered from bad tendonitis and could feel that same sharp shooting pains coming through and knew the downhill of this would be worse. I was not wrong, as I came down the hill and climbed over fences and wooden frames over stone walls. The pain was shooting through into my spine. Every climb up I could feel the pain. I took it slowly, just step at a time, trying to loosen legs as I climbed over every wall.

As the decent finally ended and caught up to Liz on an open field. I suddenly thought to myself, I am in real pain-this is bad but then stopped in a field with Liz who was getting a drink of water. I took a deep look inside msyself-yes this hurts, but its not enough-I am not suffering enough, I want to suffer. I need to really suffer, I always knew that before I started.

We ran through open fields, I took 2 aspirin and just sucked it up. I would eventually lose count of aspirin which is probably not a good thing over the next number of hours but as we ran through open fields towards a beautiful mid-point at Cawfields Quarry, I spotted a toilet block and nipped in. It was an actual toilet and had ceramic bowls. Its wrong but say down to take a wee and just that feeling of a ceramic bowl. I actually felt normal. It was magical. I had run 28 miles and this was just great. I even washed my hands with soap and water too. In hindsight, that 3 mile stretch from the previous check point was my lowest and loneliest point. Worse was to come but we suffered that together and Liz’s low point was to come too but on that mountain.

As we jogged over together to the water station and some Haribo, looking fresh faced as a man who had just washed his hands and loving life right now. This amazing volunteer shouts out “That mans just done over a marathon and he’s smiling, you don’t see Mo Farah smiling when he’s just finished a marathon do you….go on my son”…all with loud clapping and shouting. I was laughing at so hard at this, also don’t see Mo 28 miles in belly laughing either so off we set, full of optimism, haribo and laughs. It’s the volunteers, the people who come out to cheer you on in the little villages The cars that go past beeping their horns and shouting words of encouragement. It just makes such a special event.

The run past the lake was beautiful and the scenary was stunning. We had great weather and as we ran through then I seen it, the iconic Vindolanda and those steps. I was taking in the beauty of the old Roman site and trying not to look at the sprawling Roman Fort and not the huge number of stairs that came from it. Those stairs hurt and the nice rythymn we had, was gone although getting to the top was a special feeling. In videos I had watched of the Wall, I had only dreamt of getting up those stairs and as we stood at the top and looked back down at everyone at the bottom. Took a moment and then on, lets get that flow going.

We were were motoring, Liz was starting to get some stomach cramps so I tried to just keep running beside her encouraging and encouraging any runners we ran past. Sharing a few words. We talked and we listened. The miles just ate away in the beautiful scenary between Cumbria and Northumbria. It was truly breath-taking. And as we inched through the 30 mile barrier and then it was another checkpoint.

Bardon Mill, it was here where I first seen the impact of the Wall, there were people in tears, shaking. The exhaustion of 34 miles of running having taking its toll. I didn’t have to my shame the capacity to offer any help to anyone so we just sat and shared our supplies, I had some creams and Liz had bright pink tape so my knee which was heavily strapped to start was re-strapped with neon pink sticky bandage but it worked! The combination of that with kinesiology tape was enough of a placebo. We filled our bottles, ate some chocolate, only a square and lots of oat bars and gotta few for our bags and off we set. We didn’t want to sit around too long as we were feeling strong. As we left we did notice this was the stopping point for the 2 day relay runners. A few private jokes at the quitters and off we went to claps from the volunteers. Liz had a few trips to the loo for that stomach so everyone was happy!

Then they just in the biggest feck-off hill straight out of the pitstop and a hard right straight up a hill, in hindsight it was ok as it was enough to get food digested and bit of heat in the legs. The clouds were starting to darken, we had no clue what time it was but the running was steady 11 minute miles and we were giddy. My knee felt as good as it was going to get, Liz was high on warm tea and we left those Negatron’s in the pit stop!

As we ran along some farmland, the rain was now trucking it down and Liz just said “Hang on mate….” Then off she went over a gate, behind a wall, I jogged on and stopped, give some privacy. A group of four guys came up behind as I stood on the road, stopping, concerned “You ok buddy, everything ok?”. “Yes my friend, I’m fine, 110, but that poor girl behind there is shitting the arse off herself”. Much laughing and they ran on.

The camaraderie and conversations you find yourself having as you run past others, its brilliant.

In comparison to other runs I have done, I have always found endurance events bring out the best in people or the best people. The shorter runs (10k’s, Half marathons) people get far too competitive and sucks the joy out of it. When you are doing marathon length obstacle races or ultra’s. I do believe apart from the 1% (who you never see) everyone is there to survive. Their race is against themselves and the course not against one another. Everyone will bend over to help one another, even to just stand beside if they are alone, the positive words as you meet others on the road and trails.

And as we continued to run on quiet roads, the rain had dampened the supporters who had joined the route earlier in day when the sun shone but cars drove, slowed down and beeped the horn, shouted encouragement.

As we came to a small village, I made an error. I was feeling strong and Liz wanted to use a loo and get a fizzy drink. I, in my error said I’d run on slowly and sure catch up. I was afraid of going into a pub as there were racers at the pub who had decided to call it a day and had a pint awaiting pick-up from race organisers. I again foolishly made the decision as I could not risk the loss in focus. In hindsight I should have waited and paced up through with Liz. As I ran on my own, I caught up with three people and just affirmed by mistake. Everything they talked about was negatives, they were lovely but the rain, the trails, the branches-everything annoyed them and I did chuckle. What did they expect, London!

And so I ran on and got to Hexham. In drizzling rain, it was a toilet, paracetamol top-up and to get rid of some of the things in my bag. Starting with the sun cream!

I arrived at Hexham in the pouring rain, this was the biggest check point and to me mentally this was a huge focus to get to Hexham at 45 miles. I always thought if I could get this far. Nothing would stop me taking it home. I sat down to get some plain rice and plenty of water and wait for Liz. My stomach was in bits so all the cake, biscuits and crisps I was very nervous over that. It was just plain rice with some chunks of banana. I had all planned to do a full change but instead got rid of some weight in my bag. The people who I had set beside had all decided to quit so I slowly grabbed by bits and pieces and moved to a table to slowly eat some more food. In my head, I had to stay positive, negativity is contagious and I could not let myself be exposed to it. I would rather be alone in my own headspace. Patiently hoping to see Liz’s smiling face coming in and it duly did! I was so happy but of course the first thing was to tell about the three people I caught and then ran on by, Fecking Negatrons!

It was as we ate and I changed into my special t-shirt, I had a Holywood RFC printed top and put that on. I had the colours of my friends on, their names beside me. I had only been looking at my phone at the major checkpoints and been inundated with messages of support but when I got to Hexham, as it had been a few hourse since I last looked there was a positive avalanche of messages. Its hard to put into words the boost you feel, for some one at home, it may take a matter of seconds but me on the course this was like an energy boost, a layer of strength. Every message and notification just lighted my heart and motivated me. I felt so so strong, in my mind I was close to the finish then bang…

Right behind us someone just collapsed, they went into shaking convulsions, his friends rushed to him and then medics came over to tend to him. He was as white as anyone that I have ever seen as he came to, now embroiled in layers of tinfoil. It was about time to leave, Michelle who we started with came in and that was a boost to see her and that she was doing great so we had a quick chat, I was feeling anxious as I was not looking at the guy who had fallen over and in a bad state. I had mental blinkers on and the longer I was in that tent. I was worried I might lose them. So Liz and I decided to leave, get back to it. We left our bags of dirty clothes, see you in Newcastle. Lets finish this.

As we left it was all most exhuberant, as we came out of the tent, the sun had come out. It was a nice June evening and we started winding through Hexham and back to the small villages just outside.

And with the return of a little sun and dryness, the day (evening) drinkers re-appeared so as we ran along. The cheers and claps all came en force. It really is brilliant. If you get the chance to sit alongside an ultra route, for sure-go to the beer garden, have a drink and as runners go past-give a loud clap and a cheer as it makes such a difference to us. You get a boost, a little spring as you clock through the miles and as you get into. We ate up the miles, it was starting to get a chill but we kept going. It was we ran along and some people had set up little stations at cars, amybe family of other runners we started to see. The first was a guy, he just stopped flat on the road and said that’s it, I’m calling it in. We asked him to come with us, come this far, lets finish this. But no, he had stopped and was calling in for a pick up. This would not be the last we seen of this.

We jogged on, that had taken its toll on us both, we were still chatting away and as we came into a wooded section, the sun was so low in the sky. The darkness was coming, a motivational speech I had listened to before every training session, when I felt exhausted, tired. I said “Liz, wanna listen to it, so we played this little song, at a dusk in some unknown place in Northern England,

It gave us such a boost, the words resonated, the pain was brutal at this point. The paracetemol which were going down like they were going out of fashion to take the edge off the pain.

We had run two marathons back to back. We were soaked, we were cold, we were tired but somehow we lifted it up, we ran for the next 4 miles at 12 minute miles. We ran past groups of fellow runners in a wooded area. The trees now created darkness and we were clapped and cheered along as ran past. We felt like superstars, I hoped I could motivate others to keep pushing on towards the finish although this feeling only lasted so far. We did break and we broke so badly. We had lost track of miles but we thought (hoped) we had 13 miles left. Just a half marathon but my knees were gone. My back was wrecked. It felt as cold as Siberia. I got as many layers as I had on.

It was only around 55–60 miles (who knew) and we were coming through a carvan park on the outskirts in who knows where. It was thick with darknesss, we were walking, slowly jogging, moving forward. It was the side of a river and shitty. I walked in front as I had a stronger torch so wanted to lead the way for any potholes or rocks. It was there, as I was deep in my worst moments. I laughed, I just started to giggle. In my mind, all I could think of was the messing and fun that Ivan and I got up to, my mind was transported to the days in his kitchen, laughing so hard we would be crying. Two big kids with the matrurity of a 5 year old. At my darkest point in the middle of nowhere, all on my mind was my friends. I was transported back to Superbowl Sunday’s with Stevie, our tradition of going to one another’s houses and watching the greatest show on turf. As we plodded through the shit, I grabbed each own arms, they were beside me when I needed them. My friends carried me through, as they had on the pitch and occasionally in the bar afterwards after one too many. They continue to this day to never leave my side.

And as we moved along, in thick darkness, some residents had left out chopped oranges, cups of water in large sealed boxes to keep free of bugs and made amazing signs. It was so uplifting and then out of nowhere. A man, a runner, he had just sat down. That was enough. In the middle of nowhere this poor guy had just had enough, we stopped and tried to convince to come with us but his race was run. He could not carry on. We wished him the best and moved on.

The dirt tracks turned into cycle lanes and we really had no idea where we were but a small town was on the horizon, civilization, some street lights. As we came into the hazy lights out of nowhere, a man was standing, he beckoned us over. My instinct was ohh nooo-I just don’t have the energy if this is some crazy Geordie killer. Yet out of nowhere, he was a volunteer, “Chocolate…grapes” this absolute legend had little chocolate bars and packets of grapes for runners. From my immient shallow grave to such a happpy moment. Was the race in an instant really. Although we then had to come out of this valley into small streets and that was more steps, steps were not good on the knees!

It was now as got back to streets, we seen the organisers people carrier was now actively driving around, ensuring everyone was ok. We seen so many just stop and get in. I did consider it alot more than once, just say yes and all my pain is over. I could be in my hotel in seconds. I have hours left in this. I looked at my watch. We were looking at 18 minute miles, in my head, I was thinking I have over three hours of agony still to go, why not? Just jump in, but as that thought crossed my mind, I immediately blocked it out and looked at Liz, she was now a machine and right beside me.

It was also at this point, we realised the distances are all wrong. We were due a checkpoint at mile 63. We were at mile 63 on our watches and nothing. There were volunteers and in fairness, they were amazing! But my goodness, the amount of times it was another half a mile or just around the corner. They all lied but I understand, it did work and we went around those corners and that extra bit. We would break into a jog as we could but we were both in a bad way. Even lifting our knees sent pains shooting all over.

Eventually we arrived at the last checkpoint, Newburn. A toilet, fresh water. A moment to get warm and some food on, we got to the loo and then came into the tent. As we arrived, it was so quiet. The checkpoint was full but everyone was so quiet. We found our way in and got some fruit, we met an amazing volunteer, Dean. I tried to get my water bottles out but he came over and said just stay still, I’ll fill them all for you. At this point even arching my back to get my pack off hurt like crazy so this offer was so great. We nibbled at some oat bars and Dean filled and then replaced our bottles. He then leaned over and said, in a whisper “Get out, get out now”. We were a little taken aback, tired, exhausted and now this. What the fudge? Although he just said, “This is the most dangerous place on the course, it’s warm, there are seats, medics-a lot of people quit here”. We thanked Dean, I know his name as I have since got to know him on Social media as the exact good Samaritan we needed. It was perfect advice. We got out of that tent, one last loo stop and on we went. Somehow we were still chatting but the rate of curse words had increased significantly, as we laughed, the f-word had become like a comma at this stage.

We thought there should only be 6 miles left but as we know so there was zero jubilation. The miles were wrong. We actually had another ten. It can only be described as the most painful, cold and back breaking time in my life. We just kept moving forward together. I had a few of my magical Soreen bars left and I shared with Liz. Even all these miles together, we were still talking(cursing). Just trying to keep walking. We were talking absolute crap but I think for me, I just wanted to talk, if I could distract from the pain. I kept repeating in my head, zero negativity, we got this. I never once thought of the finish line. All I could do was put my feet in front of one another. Are running bursts as we traversed a network of cycle tracks into Newcastle were becoming shorter.

We eventually came in sight of the River Tyne and I got one huge boost, thinking we were close. We should see the Tyne bridge any second. Little did I know this was the longest river I’d seen. At this point, the pain was numbing, I was gone but now I had an extreme cold. I was cold to the bones, I’d never felt anything like this. We came down a small incline and thought lets try up the pace, finish this off but as we pushed off, we both gasped in pain. We couldn’t, our knees were basically seized up. In hindsight I think it was dehydration and lack of food as it was a night in June yet I felt like I was in the worst ice bath. My body had just nothing left but we kept going. Just hoping to see that bridge! Liz from being a saint was now even out-doing that, I’d gone quiet as I had nothing but Liz, she kept us going with how she is going to sit in a big jacuzzi then get a big breakfast, all the tales of luxury she was going to have when this was over. I was quiet but this made me so happy to listen.

After what felt like hours trailing the tyne bridge, then we seen it, the iconic sign “You are one mile from legend status” I’d seen so many videos and imagined how I would feel seeing this sign in real life, I thought I would bound past it but in reality I was just overwhelmed by it. And as I looked beyond, I seen the bridge. It was so close I could touch it, just one mile. If it was now, I could run that in 7–8 minutes, at this point I knew it would be closer to 30 minutes. It was close but I was so far but I was not stopping.

As we came over the line, I had imagined jumping jubilation, excitement but no. I had nothing to even be happy. In hindsight, I should have spent more time, Liz and I chatted as I went to get my bags. I didn’t know where my hotel so was anxious as to how I would even get there. I should have stayed with Liz, we hugged and we were proud of one another but I was too quick to run off. My anxiety of not knowing where I was got the better of me. I deeply regret this to this day.

As I walked out of the hall that signaled the end of the race, bodies sleeping on floors, people eating, others getting showers or massages. An older couple noticed me and the wife just said to me, noticing the medal. “Really really well done, you are brilliant” and rubbed my arm. I have no idea but that was it, I was in floods of tears. I just erupted, I had done it, I never thought it but I was now an ultramarathon runner. I was in my team colours, a medal around my neck.

As I arrived in the hotel, even the amazing GM had me all booked in so I could get to the room, the sun was starting to rise over Gateshead now and I took my gear off, I sent my wife, family and the son and brothers of my friends who had passed. We had done it. I was so so cold so decided to get a shower, putting to full maximum heat. I shivered in that shower, the cold, chill was so deep. Even getting in and out of the shower took all my stubbornness to get my leg over the bath as my knees now had completely seized.

I fell into the bed holding blankets to get some heat in me. Took a deep breath and then just laughed, what the fuck was a rugby player, after 12 years in the front row at, as my knees now seized and would not move. As the nerves in my back and neck had a disco as I lay in that bed, I couldn’t move nor string a thought together.

In hindsight, that was 21 hours of my life. A blink many might say. How often does a day by us and we “where did that day go?” whoosh, its gone yet this was one day in my life.

The run, the everything was dedicated to my most amazing friends and one last cheesy number I just know, the lads upstairs will just enjoy, delightfully cheesy, happy. So many happy memories.

This always reminds me of our nights in the rugby club, til we meet again my friends.

Every day and every night, I’ve always dreamt of you by my side…….I’ll fly with you xxxx

And as for the Mo Farah’s at the start line, I’m not sure but the finish rate was 55%. There was a very high drop-out rate and I do wonder how many of those who looked at me at the start line took that people carrier to the finish line but in reality, I don’t care; we are all on our own journeys in the race, in life. If they take the time to judge me, so be it.

What I take away is that life is all about the experiences from those moments in the changing rooms before matches to the trails in the pouring rain of the North of England. Those moments that are best shared with friends and to all those who sent messages, the texts, the comments, the tweets. They were incredible, it may take you a matter of seconds to the person in that race. They are such a huge boost when you see them and just helps you to keep moving forward. I will never forget Stevie and Ivan but I’m so proud, I met Michelle and Liz who I can unequivocally say they are friends for ever more.

We are so much stronger together, looking out for another, having a laugh. We got this, zero negativity!

Dedicated to my Friends, always missed, forever loved and always together.

Past, Present and Future.

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