On the 26th August I am taking part in the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc. It's 166k, or 100 miles, of Mountain running. Well walking mostly, but it's the thought that counts. It's renowned as one of the toughest ultra marathons on the planet and includes 9.6 kilometers of cumulative elevation gain. That's like ascending the height of Everest from Sea Level. It's the first race I've enterred that I'm really not sure that I will/ can finish, but I wanted to do something worthwhile as I am doing this in memory of my dad who passed away none too peacefully last August.
It was a couple of weeks after I returned from my last adventure running (one day), walking (6 days) and puking my way across the Atacama Desert in Chile, that my dad was diagnosed. The family were shocked, but in true British style we pretended everything was alright and carried on. I'm living in Hong Kong these days so I wasn't really around to see his battle against the big C. It was a tough one, his only chance of survival was a massive dose of chemo and then a big operation to remove the Oesophagus (I still can't spell it) and majority of the stomach. We spoke regularly on the phone throughout his treatment and the one topic that he kept mentioning was how wonderful the people were who treated him in the cancer ward and how bloody uncomfortable their chairs were. It became the main topic of our chats after his bi-weekly dose of Chemo. We laughed about it then, very British, lots of jokes, no complaining. But looking back those were his last few months on earth and I would do anything to be able to reverse the clock and find him some comfort during those tough tough moments. The UTMB will mark 1 year pretty much to the day that my dad finally passed away. He never regained consciousness after his surgery and over the course of 3 weeks his body gradually shut down, all his organs failed and eventually he couldn't go on. The truth is that sometimes it's easy to forget that people still die of cancer, there are so many wonderful stories of recovery. But they do. My dad did. So I am going to run in his memory to try and help others who are in his place.
So it seems fitting that my sister has asked the Royal Berkshire Hospital, where my dad was treated, to use any money I raise through this event to help to refurbish the ward where he received his chemo. It may seem like a rather trivial charity pledge in the grand scheme of things. Normally I contribute to the major charities that can really make a difference. But this time it's personal... so to speak. I'd love for a few people to be able to walk away from their bi-weekly dose of chemo and think to themselves, 'that was awful, but the staff were fantastic and at least I was comfy'. My entire family are really struggling as the one year approaches, it's been a terrible time for all of us, but particularly my mum and sister who saw the worst of it, so hopefully it will offer a little comfort to them to think of this little contribution in his memory.
The one problem, well... few problems... are that I am still not designed for this kind of thing. I have no endurance talent, I'm a little bit fat and Mont Blanc is massive. So donate generously, it may be the last one I do for charity. It may be the last one I do full stop. I've been writing a blog now and then to record my training or lack thereof. You can take a look by following this link but a quick warning, it's not a serious training resource for those looking to follow in my footsteps:
http://nottheultramarathonman.blogspot.com/
Thank you for taking the time to read this, hopefully I can organise some drinks if I return in one piece
Nick
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