Definitely Daunted Donal

"Fear can sometimes be a useful emotion. For instance, let's say you're an astronaught on the moon and you fear that your partner has been turned into Dracula. The next time he goes out for the moon pieces, wham!, you just slam the door behind him and blast off. He might call you on the radio and say he's not Dracula, but you just say, "Think again, bat man."

Jack Handey

During the past few weeks, the daunting challenge of the marathon has motivated me to get out there and keep my activity rates high. The more often I run, the easier each run becomes– start missing a few sessions, and your fitness disappears, along with your ability to comfortably complete a distance. Part of my training involves a long weekend run, which cuts seriously into the time when I’d like to be at home with my wife and son, and when they would like me home so that they can have some support from me. I have to weigh this against how important it is to keep the training going, and to keep my distances up. I couldn’t do any of this without my wife, and I hope she knows how grateful I am.


I’ve also had a reminder of the value of the organisation who I’m raising money for. I read this article about the efforts of SJA to save a runner who collapsed during the Nottingham Half Marathon. This was a seemingly fit and healthy young guy, who was resuscitated and saved by the mobile SJA volunteers who were helping at the event. I’m more aware than ever of the need to be in good shape.  A recent conversation with a supplier at work  has led me to believe that my target time of 3:30 or below is pretty ambitious – I think it’s achievable but I can’t afford to take the training lightly..


So, it’s all a bit tough – luckily I have a plan. A three-pronged megaplan with gnashing great teeth.

• Make a plan: My aim until December is 4 runs per week, including a distance of 15/16 miles twice a month by December. 
• Keep the activities up: My colleagues are running out of ‘red-faced chump’ jokes to use on me when I come back to the office from my lunchtime run. That’s got to be a good sign.
• Get some uber-kit: I finally took the plunge and purchased a pair of Ron Hill running trackers. For anyone not familiar with them, these are the running equivalent of skinny jeans, which make you look part court jester, part 70s-batman-villain gone wrong. These little beauties are going to stop my thighs from being lacerated to pieces; they’re also shamelessly garish, and all runners love shamelessly garish kit.

In the midst of all this uncertainty, my legs are carrying me round some fantastic runs. October has sent some superb weather for me to run through, lighting up the fields and valleys with crisp autumnal sunshine. I recently ran the Marlow half marathon route with a friend (Ben) who is running the race on 7th November (good luck, Ben!). I think it might be my favourite route so far; a country road winds through lush green fields, leaf-laden woodland and long, snaking valleys. There's a real sense of scale, with commanding views on the downhill sections. It also features a signature ‘hill of death’ at mile 8- 300 ft of continual climb. We got a real morale boost from passing 6 lumbering cyclists, who were inching their way up the hill. 


So, enough worry, I'd better get back to my training. Just a reminder to please visit my justgiving page and sponsor me  – the SJA is a very good cause and they need your generous donations! I promise to write a more interesting post if you do. 


Thanks for reading.

A new centre of gravity

Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.  

Robert Fulghum

At 10 minutes past 6 on Wednesday the 8^th September I went out for my last run without a child to care for. We covered 5.37 miles of the Buckinghamshire countryside in gorgeous, early autumn sunshine, and I was entirely unaware of the new way of life which lay in wait around the corner. My world then was a little haphazard, but generally I felt composed and in control of my destiny. The sun sank, the shadows grew, and I ran confidently on.

My wife was already a week past her due date, so we ordered an Indian takeaway as a treat to keep ourselves occupied and to distract from our mounting anticipation. Our house sits on a precipitous little track, one side of which cuts away to leave a mini-cliff-edge. This is the side over which the delivery man reversed his car, leaving his rear left tyre spinning helplessly in mid air and our road completely blocked. It was fortunate that, aided by two helpful neighbours, we managed to shove his car back up onto the road, because approximately 90 minutes afterwards my wife pointed out to me that her waters had just broken.

Having successfully flooded a labour room in the hospital birthing centre, legs creaking under the back-breaking weight of our 7 overnight bags, thoroughly sleep-deprived and emotionally charged, I suddenly found myself standing in a brightly-lit operating theatre, arms full of my precious newborn son, eyes locked onto his vulnerable and inquisitive gaze, as I initiated a 3-way superhug with Mum, Dad and baby.

When I imagined this moment, I had anticipated an explosion of heady joy; instead I felt profound, immovable love, which existed in everything around me and within me in the same moment. For the first 2 days of his life, I held myself together pretty well; carried bags, stuffed baloons into cars, changed nappies, and did what little I could for my wife. I felt exhausted but fulfilled. 3 days later, looking at a photo of myself post-emergency-c-section in vivid blue scrubs and hat, I sobbed tired tears of relief that my wife and son had come home safely.

So we were home, and tired, and very emotional. It can be tough, but it’s always amazing. Something new happens every day. I told my wife that it’s like showing a visitor around your hometown – except that we’re showing him around the whole world! My days of living life on a whim are gone – everything I do from here is answerable to my son, Harry William Phipps. I am the luckiest man alive.

Since the birth, we’ve been the epicentre of optimism – a newborn baby brings out the very best in people, and we have loved introducing him to friends and family.

I even dragged myself back out for training soon afterwards. Ouch. My theory that baby=stress=weight loss didn’t quite come through for me. Instead, I gobbled my way through a lot of cakes during those 2 weeks of paternity leave. My legs are extra tired, my eyes much heavier, but I’m finding my way out again into this terrifying and wondrous new world.