This is a generic page designed for all of the participants of the Sutton to Brighton Charity Walk.

Please Read our Stories

Story 1: The to Walk

The rucksacks are piled against the wall in the lounge and there is a mixture of apprehension and eagerness on the willing participants’ faces as they queue up at the registration point to sign away the next 24 hours of their lives. It is around 10.30 p.m. on Friday the 16^th April 2010; we set off in less than 2 hours. 

Protein bar wrappers and empty energy drink bottles are protruding from the litter bins and there is a desperate scramble to get to the bar, where all forms of edible sugar snacks sit waiting. People have been carbohydrate-loading for the last 12 hours in the hope that it will give them much-needed energy to last to the final mile. 

The St. Raphael’s representatives have just arrived to give their speech, show their support and thank us all for our fund-raising efforts. I remember being so proud of the £2,380 we have raised; had I accurately contemplated the journey ahead, my accomplishment would have quickly turned to defeat.   

It is approaching midnight; just in time for a few last group photo opportunities before we begin. The temperature is around zero degrees but the sky is clear and the weather forecast is on our side. The visibility jackets appear to be almost science fiction as they reflect the floodlights from the tennis courts.

The clock strikes midnight and the 24 members and staff from start the first leg of their journey – The Sutton Walk. 

The public enjoyed the show as each walker shook collection cans and bantered their way through the early Saturday morning crowds. Past the nightlife, through and onto the A217; then reality sets in. We are merely at the 3-mile mark and people are already feeling the linings of their new walking shoes. People start to group and complete strangers form friendships through the sharing of common hobbies and interests.

The pace sets in and within 1.58 hours we reach our first checkpoint. The support cars greet us and with spirits still high we exchange our water bottles for isotonic drinks and set off along the Dorking road, torches lit and navigation tools at the ready. Everyone is excited. Our eyes can only see what is illuminated by the beam of the torch and nothing can be heard bar the sound of eager chatter and the occasional owl. The gradient increases. People are forced to lean into their stride and heart rates start to increase. It’s a little tougher than the first leg of the journey but we all make good time as we approach the second check point at around three am, the Dolphin Inn. It is still dark and the is closed but manager has kindly left a marquee in the garden and the outdoor amenities open for us to use. We rest for twenty minutes, eat and regroup. We are now 10 miles in and the next check point is over 11 miles away. The roads ahead are dark and winding and the temperature is now around 2 degrees. We all add clothing layers, check our maps and set off towards Rusper. 

It is now approaching sunrise, we have been on the same road for approximately 50 minutes. I honestly believe that if were to be removed from the map none of us would miss it! We are all feeling the pressure now. Blisters are beginning to form and our hamstrings are starting to shrink under the stress. The group has now split into 3, with the front group pulling out over half a mile on the latter. 

The only conversation now is through mobile telephones, confirming locations and distances between walkers. People are breathing heavily. Although no-one is admitting it, they are beginning to worry. We are only hitting the 20-mile mark – just over a third of the way – and we all suffering. Fog starts to form, preventing us from witnessing a sunrise, but the birds’ morning chorus cheers us on. The first group arrives at Ghyll Manor at 6.30am. Twenty minutes later the next group arrives. A further 10 minutes and we are all sitting down for breakfast. The topic of conversation between one person and the next is either the scale of their pain or a discussion of the impossible journey ahead. One of the 24 has already started to feel faint and another who is suffering from knee complaints has decided to opt out. We decided to rest for a while to give people time to digest their food, recuperate and sleep a little. The staff offer to stretch out the groups; the drawing room and the hall becomes littered with contortionists. The group which had led the way up to this point made the decision to walk on. 

It is now 7.40 a.m. and with everyone feeling a little better we march on. The rest has done us all good. Determination and the realisation that we are nearly through half of our trek spurs us to continue. This is the toughest leg yet. The gradients are getting steeper and the sheer impact of continuous walking is playing havoc with people’s joints. Lactic acid build-up and muscle spasms are commonplace now. The blisters have not only formed and have burst, but seem to be alight! People only talk to vent frustration. Tension in the groups is mounting. Everyone is willing himself to reach the next stop point although it is still over 6 miles away. The support cars relay water backwards and forwards, giving encouragement and assistance, but nothing can take people’s minds off the pain that they are feeling. People are struggling to walk now. Every mile or so, we catch a glimpse of another member being transported by car to the next checkpoint. The mobile phones ring constantly. The team leaders pull out all the stops to goad members to keep going. Is it an impossible feat? Even I am starting to have doubts. I can no longer feel my feet and my knees will no longer bend properly. I have a burning sensation down my shins and my left calf feels as if it is about to snap. We try to focus on the reasons why we are doing this. We tell ourselves that we are fortunate and that there are many people out there who would do the walk one hundred times over to save a loved one; we push through the pain barrier and continue on. 

We have now reached the fourth check point, the Crabtree Inn. I have lost track of the mileage because my watch has ran out of battery life. I am informed that this is the 30-mile mark. Excluding the group of five that marched on ahead, we are now only 8 strong – including staff members. This is meant to be a car stop but people are lying on the floor removing their footwear and eating the remains of food from their rucksacks; luckily the support cars have brought provisions. We have now been walking for over 10 hours, 12 if you include rest breaks. Personally, I have had no sleep in over 32 hours. We are physically and mentally drained. We have over 20 miles left to walk and that’s without the mention of Devils Dyke. The sun is now blazing; at this point none of us can determine whether that is a negative or a positive. We all remove our layers and rehydrate. As we sit down to rest for ten minutes I can feel my left calf starting to seize. It appears that everyone else is in the same boat; unable to rest, people begin to get up and start stretching. Mentally we are prepared for what lies ahead and the few of us that have made it this far are determined to carry on. 

After 10 miles of dirt track, country road and hill climbs and two hours of Dirty Little Word on the iPod, we have reached our destination at the final checkpoint, the . We have now walked over forty miles and we all have the war wounds to prove it. I hobbled in to join the rest of the team sitting on the grass and reached out for an ice pack. By this point my calf had started to turn a funny shade of purple. I could sense the support team’s uneasiness about me continuing on with the walk, but after getting this far I defied anyone to challenge me. A few of the staff decided to push on. We were on the home stretch now. I stayed with the final 5 members, all of whom were determined and, although in pain, in surprisingly good spirits. We set off for the final trek. 

It is 5 o’clock and we still have another two 2 or so hours of walking to go. I am now relying on a hiking stick to support my leg. The terrain is relatively flat, the mind is functioning accordingly and it is merely the body that has given up. With every step something either hurts, aches or pulls. 2 pain killers and a couple of anti-inflammatory pills have been unable to mask the agony. I can see a public house in sight, maybe a strong alcoholic drink would work?! The mind starts to wander. I pull myself together and check on the others. They have decided to throw in the towel. There are only three of us left, one of whom is contemplating giving up. We make a pact to continue on as far as our legs will take us. It’s hard. We talk amongst ourselves to take our minds off the road. We are approaching Devil’s Dyke. It is now 6.30 p.m. We stop for a quick toilet break and make our way towards the climb. We have now walked over 45 miles. We are determined to succeed. The telephone rings and it is one of the staff. We have been informed that the coach will not wait at the pick-up point at Brighton Pier and that we have timed out. We are forced to give up. Ironically, all I could feel was disappointment. I wanted to cry. All this way and we had failed. 

We waited for the support car to come and collect us. We sat by the roadside saying very little. We agreed to come back and complete the journey another day, but that still didn’t take away the anguish. All that distance, all those hours, the amount of times we had wanted to quit, but we still pushed through and now we had no closure. We wouldn’t get to walk the final mile. We wouldn’t get the camaraderie at the other end. We wouldn’t be able to tell all of our friends and family who had sponsored us that we had completed our journey. We left the support car and got onto the coach. Everyone was there. Out of the 24 who set out on the journey, only 5 of them made it to the pier. The journey back was emotional. Members were crying, telling each other their stories, hugging each other, and then for the final few miles, sleeping. I sat and looked out of the window, cursing myself for not making the distance. 

We arrived back in Sutton around 9.00 p.m. Friends and family were waiting at the tennis academy to greet their loved ones. Each and every one of them had done so well. Not one of the members taking part did less than 20 miles and 5 of the members actually completed what turned out to be a 54 Mile journey!!! Whatever their reasons for taking part, they all did it for a great local cause. 

Most of them planned to go to The ZONE the next morning, but only for a sauna of course! Some decided to use their Sunday to start collecting sponsor money. I on the other hand, drove back to to complete the last leg of my journey alone and surprisingly enough, I did!

is still requesting donations for the to Brighton Walk. Please sponsor them online at www.justgiving.com/zone.

 

St.Raphaels is a great local cause and relies upon donations to continue to provide care for both the terminally ill and to provide support and couciling for relatives and loved ones. We all know people who have suffered with cancer at some point in thier life; lets ensure that if it ever happens to us, the right care and support is available.

Thanks for listening.

The Staff and Members at Sutton Tennis Academy & The Zone

 

The Team:

Jo Redman Completed 2days, Adam Chadwick, Sabrina Annon, Ben McConnon, Lauren Druce, Keith Sohl, Carla Willmers COMPLETED, Carol Mitchell: COMPLETED, Jennifer Sohl, Lewis Brunton, Greg Hurst Completed 2days, Pauline Wood, April King, Jason Eldrige COMPLETED, Justin Walker, Manjula Periasamy, Emma Quale, Beverley Val Demency, Abi Onadeko COMPLETED & Friend Paul, Kylie Penn, Garry Lengthorne, Thomas Lengthorne, Ashleigh O'Halloran, Donna Completed 2days