Yet again the sun beamed down to set near perfect race conditions at the 11am start time. Growing every year with popularity, this year with some 4700 runners, Lincoln was consumed with guys wearing shorts that could pass for under pants and girls sporting the latest running fashion gear all set to go!

The 10k formed it’s relationship with OutKlass only years a go. Back then a few of the trainers battled it out and a handful of clients “had a go”! Now it is all very different. The OutKlass clients and trainers taking part have exponentially developed, especially over the last two years. Even more impressive is the times OutKlass members are producing and building upon towards faster times. Of course some of us were a little slower this year but we are one year older aren’t we Luke.

My interest in running long distance has been well documented recently. However not so common knowledge is the runners I have been working with over the past few months, a gang of which had this very 10k was a peak goal. I apologize to any that feel left out but I can not mention everyone here so I’m not going to single out individuals. Also I respect ones time can be a personal thing. I am however going to quickly take this opportunity to thank and give love to all my runners though. Out of 11 athletes I coached with the tailored weekly programs, 7 of you performed personal best times! Some well deserved results and I look forward to taking you further or/and faster! Well done all. For the remaining 4, we have work to do but hats off for being a competitor when the easy option is to remain a spectator.

Battle of the trainers without doubt was taken by Neil. In a time of 38:29 no one got near him. An outstanding performance and a result that came off the back of a well balance training schedule with the inclusion of just two specific 10k runs.

Staying with Neil for a second let us not forget Neil’s strong performance on the long cycle clean and jerk competition recently too, along with a select few OutKlass kettlebell diehards! This further illustrates the variety of training taking place at OutKlass by all who pursues it and proves the fitness transfer that can be achieved in 10k running.

Highlight of the day for me was Julia. Jules achieved a great PB of 50:30, but this was not the highlight! The highlight was seeing Jules roll around on the floor in agony clutching her calf as her Achilles cramped! It actually brought tears to her eyes (and mine!) whilst Neil tried to help out looking worried, although I could not help but laugh hysterically. Sorry Jules sick humor I guess!

I conclude by saying farewell to the big guy James Fenwick of which I and the team will remember this 10k as marking his departure. James even managed to finish the 10k which makes it extra special as in his words not mine “he’s a lifter not a runner”!

James was vital to my support crew on my first 100 mile race last year. Reports got back to me that Luke could not map read to find the meeting points, mostly because he was sleeping. This left James to drive and navigate for 24 hours. I owe a lot to him. Luke did redeem himself carrying me through the last section however.

James’s encouragement was uplifting from this act of support alone and I know he understands the fuel I run off. I see the same fire in James and I hope he finds the right way, a happy way, for him to glow. Thanks James, and on behalf of the OutKlass team we sure are going to miss your lazy ass man!

Ronnie

* Anyone seeking to improve on their running (or start running!) please feel free to email me on dale@outklassfitness.co.uk for further details. Thanks.

By Dale Ronnie Staton Of OutKlass Fitness, 05/03/12

Intro to this short story: I wrote this the day after completing the Thames Path 100 Mile foot race. The story acts not only as an honest reflection of my race but also of my flirtation with failure. Hunched transfixed hands on knees somewhere along the Thames bank, light winds whispered indecipherable messages as it carried the crisp night air through the trees. In moderate to severe pain and slightly damp awaiting the inevitable chill with approximately 45 miles to the finish, I stared beyond its face and into the depths of failure. In doing so came answers to questions we rarely ask.

I don’t condone training or competing whilst injured, I couldn’t be more to the contrary. However, in my opinion injury occurring during an event of this nature is very different. Here, my objective was to finish, no exceptions.

Ultimately I would like the reader to pose the following questions whilst reading this article:

Are you really afraid to fail, or do you fear how you may fail………….?

It’s nearly 10am Saturday 3^rd March 2012. The 10 second count begins. I have all I need in my rucksack and my train is at 13:50 tomorrow from Oxford. One hundred miles is the only thing that stands in my way. By now all the runners have joined in on the count down 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and then the air horn shimmers across the River Thames joined by a wave of cries of encouragement. It is a perfect few seconds, rare and fleeting, but so very perfect. I let off an inadvertent squawk with excitement which screeches like the crows fleeing above due to all the commotion. My hands clap, watches bleep all around me, I grin and collectively we are off!

It hurts. The sore spot in the left calf, 200 yards into the race and it hurts. “Shit”, I think, “it really does hurt, shit! It’s in the background for now”. I tell myself that it will ease as I loosen off whilst running. About 12 miles in and I’m shocked at how much concrete has passed under foot, I prefer the softer trail. The sore spot hurts a little more, “shit!” Another 35-40 miles pass, still too hard under foot than desirable for me and by this point it has become clear the sore spot is becoming increasingly problematic, “double shit!” At approximately 53 miles and the pain deviated from a very deep stab concurrent with each and every step to a shock zipping up my leg and flashing down into my foot. It was as if I was stepping on a live electrical cable upon every landing which exploded a volt of pain into me like lightening striking a tree. As a side effect of such pain nausea had started to creep in too. I ran just a little longer until I could not bear it. I stopped unable to move temporarily immobilize by the pain. Then, I took a long hard stare into the face of failure.

During my short time and 18 fights as an amateur boxer I have stared into the eyes of men wanting nothing more than to beat me. All looked nervous to some degree, the only difference being how they used such tension. It always used to surprise me however when some fighters looked utterly scared to death. Scared or confident the only thing all of these warriors had in common was that they were all staring into my face. I wondered how some would smile at me whilst others could barely hold my gaze without a nervous twitch. I now believe the latter were looking into their face of failure, not mine.

Have you seen your face of failure yet? Have looked at it for long enough to see what or indeed who it looks like? My face of failure is a distorted me, it looks like me in the mirror only with a hint of the devil. A bit like you might see yourself in a dream or perhaps more accurately a nightmare. My face has a despondent look yet one heightened and intensified with negative emotion and sorrow. Such a face has an incredible power over me. I look like my best friend who I have done something terrible to or let down in a major way. I look back at the real me, the love is there but I’m deeply disappointed in myself.

All the time the devil sticks his nose in obscuring the view a little, contradicting and trying to manipulate the picture to his favor. He tells me that it is ok to quit. “You have good reason” he says softly as if my friend. “You’re injured; it’s not your fault. Stop and come have a cup of coffee with me, get warm and rest those tired legs”. I know he doesn’t have my best interests at heart but he is talking sense, I like this guy. Also I want nothing more than the very things he is offering me, so really, what is the problem. Well, I feel his underlying sense of evil of which he plates his offerings. It makes me uncomfortable like a rabbit sensing a snare close to food. Barely, I find strength within my heart to resist his luring temptations and listen to my reflection instead, my disappointed friend.

One of my favorite running books is a book called “Zen and the art of running” written by Larry Shapiro whom holds a PhD in philosophy and specializes in questions concerning the nature of the mind and its relation to the body. Within this book it features a chapter that looks to overcome obstacles in your path. Part of this explores the non-judging mind, typical and central to Buddhism of which Zen stems from. For example, it is not terribly cold outside, it is just cold. Whether it is terrible or not is in your mind.

Utilizing such wisdom of Mr. Shapiro and many who have come before him I focused on the sore spot to create the distance between me and the feeling of pain. Once this stance was assumed I no longer felt subject or victim to the pain or cold.

Now I see more clearly. Such discomforts are not me but rather sensations happening to me. Me, what ever that is, is bigger than pain and larger than feelings. The sensations are simply observations I can make use of to my favor to attend to my needs the best I can. With this I accept the pain and the fact that I now have to walk the remaining 45 miles. This stacks the odds of finishing within the 30 hour cut off against me. Once a fast walk turns into a slow walk there is nowhere to go! I don’t worry about that for now. Instead I pull on my leggings, fleece, hat and gloves and start to walk through the 12 lonely hours of darkness as fast as I can.

My legs slow and I’m tired of the pain, about 23 hours of it so far but at least the night has passed. From my estimations I am going to miss my train which adds complications to my day I could really do without. The last 10 miles the temperature dropped, the wind picked up and soon the rain turned to sleet and snow. The path under foot was a mud bath, almost impossible to walk on never mind run. The convoy of possessed runners gone through paired with the heavy and brief rainfall over the past few hours acted to churn up the path. My trainers had no grip and slipped every other step. The sharp jolt or movement to prevent myself falling shot pangs of pain down my left leg. At times I fell to the floor stunned, as if winded by a body blow back in the day. Only now I could show I was hurt and it took me more than the count of 10 to clamber to my feet.

Of course I felt like crying at times but with the devil taken care of I have no fear, as I sense I will forgive myself in time should I fail. I do however have an out of control need to achieve by this stage in the race. Things start to shape into a positive light, the final leg. I visualize myself finishing and catching my train. Now, until I ask my body to make that next step and it physically can’t, I will move forward. No thought, no man, no terrain, no bad weather, no thing will stop me. I will move forward until I collapse. “Come on Ron” I mutter. ”Forward motion, you can do this, come on Ron”, I repeat with every step in the height of my pain. If that next step doesn’t come and I do fail, I know I will forgive. I now realize that I fear not the failure but rather the shaking of hands with the devil and accepting his cup of coffee. The day I do this I am a beaten man. Such defeat I will forgive less readily. Viewing things this way I can never fail, so I don’t fear it. Sure you may not finish. You may not win your next fight, race or game. You may not perform to your best or hit that PB. But as long as you don’t shake hands with the devil you are a winner, even when you fail.

Into the last 8 miles and it was just relentless, like someone was pressing buttons to see how much I could take. Although egotistical, such conditions and challenges felt bizarrely personal. The path remained a mud bath feeling more like an ice rink by the second until it was welcomed by concrete for the last mile or so. A sure sign of how the tables had turned as I normally hate concrete. By this time the wind had grown stronger cutting through me as I fell weaker, the whispers now in full voice. A blister burst under my right foot which felt like I was walking on fire. My inner thighs chaffed. It was all like a kick when you’re down and nearly out and I could sense the referee watching me closely, or maybe it was my coach I sense, about to throw in the towel.

I was wet to the bone and it continued to snow/sleet hard. I started to shake and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. Each bridge I approached in the distance I told myself it was the one to get off the river to make the short detour from the river to the finish. Four or five bridges later and my hopes materialized. A stranger shouted “half a mile to go”. It seems so far, I tell myself he’s wrong, it’s closer than that. I know I only have a few more minutes, a couple more steps left in me before I collapse and need aid fast. I’m scared by now as I feel very close to my breaking point but at the same time I’m unsure exactly where that is, like walking on thin ice. My body was in unknown territory and wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out. The pain in my leg had gone for the first time in 99 miles, replaced by the onset of hypothermia and a body numbness I can only describe as the start of a worsening problem. I strangely feel very alive but so close to the edge. Later I realize hypothermia forced many to retire.

“Make the finish, keep moving forward, you can do this, come on Ron”. I repeat over and over again. I develop the stare of a desperate man and the stagger of an exhausted one. I can think of nothing else than to finish and get warm. “Come on Ron”. I feel faint and dizzy. “Where the hell is the finish” I mumble. I sway left to right. “Come on Ron. Keep moving forward”. The next ten minutes feels like an hour then I see the finish tent. “Come on Ron, come on Ron, come on Ron” carries me to the tent and my hell is finally over. Victory is mine after over 26 hours of pain endurance.

Unbeknown to me until the following day, when I finished the race was already abandoned. However, as I had passed the last checkpoint I was able to finish. Approximately 4 hours until the expiry of the official 30 hours given all remaining runners were held at the checkpoints with their race over. The path was too dangerous and the weather turning at such a late stage of the event was a major health risk. This was a good call from the Centurion Running race director James Elson and was met with no arguments from the sane individual.

A kind volunteer drove me to the station and I caught the train that I had visualized hours ago when it had seemed impossible. Negotiating the underground trains until my eventual train from kings cross was desperately slow. I was very cold as I was unable to get dry and had no jacket due to my fleece getting wet. Thankfully however, eventually, I made it home in kind of one piece. Just a bit broken. This was the toughest day of my life and one in which I will take to the grave as one of the most epic spiritual journeys to date. I have never looked so deep into myself I came out of the other side! Questions were answered and I now rest content again, for now, until the next time.

“So I ask again………………are you afraid to fail, or do you fear how you may fail………….?”

We are looking for an honest, professional individual who is:

• Hard working
• Highly motivated
• Passionate about their work
• Enthusiastic and personable
• Educated and eager to learn more
• And most of all…. A brilliant team player!

Working alongside our existing team of trainers and therapists, the areas you will have the opportunity to work within include but are not limited to:

• Personal Training
• Group Personal Training
• Circuit Classes
• Bootcamps
• Injury Rehabilitation
• Nutrition

This is a fantastic opportunity to become part of a rapidly growing fitness company, providing some of the most diverse and exciting training in the UK.

After looking over our website you will know all about us, so let us know about you. Please send an up to date CV and Cover Letter to luke@outklassfitness.co.uk

Your cover letter should highlight why you believe you are the perfect fit for our team, along with key strengths you would bring to the role. This is your chance to grab our attention!

This is a self-employed role.

Salary and working hours are negotiable.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Luke and the team at OutKlass Fitness

The strategy of a fast first 50 miles paid off and I reached the halfway station within 9.5 hours arriving in 4th position. I knew I could not keep this pace on the return leg. In fact I wasn’t sure what would happen for the last 30 miles so I ran faster to provide myself time to crawl back if need be!

Unfortunately I took a big setback when I got disorientated with fatigue and stupidity after the 50 mile point! I had lost a little time on the first 50 losing the route but nothing devastating. However, shortly after the turn around point I somehow looped around on myself to be running in the wrong direction. After 30 minutes of my best running of the day I arrived back at the Check Point I last saw the team. Now of course recognizing where I was, although not quite able to comprehend how I was there, I received one of the sickest feelings I’ve ever felt. Running 3 miles in the wrong direction when you have 55 miles to go hurt me. More so it put my success in huge jeopardy as it had started to eat into the very cushion I had earned to be slow, not lost and slow! It took me a long time to get passed this feeling and box it off as ultimately only 30 minutes and 3.5 miles energy lost. I weighed up if that was enough to stop me. Realizing it would not I started to focus again and put it behind me. I thought of the Hospice and everyone that believes in me and there was no way I would ever quit.

I managed to run most of the course until about 85 miles with relatively no rest other than to fuel up with my crew to eat on the move. Lorrel did a great job pacing me from mile 68-76. However, we did at one point get lost deep into the woods. This was by far the lowest point of the race for me. Lorrel left me lent up on a tree as she desperately scrambled around looking for trail markers. I took note of the time and although her first visit back to me was less than 5 minutes it felt like forever. With bad news she ran back in the other direction, this time she was a little longer, 7 mins and again returned having seen no markers. Everything slowed to a heartbeat. Every second felt like a minute. I was capable of moving, but we was lost. My dream was once again slipping away from me and I felt robbed, like a victim. Lorrel was sure the sign said to run down the hill. It had been my most painful stretch coming down, yet now possibility for nothing. Worse, the thought of going back up was crushing me.

I couldn’t let this happen and I had to make a decision. Failure sat on my shoulders once again and this hurt more than the thought of returning up the hill. With this I kicked out the role of the victim. This was not Lorrel’s fault. It was not even the fool’s fault who deliberately moved the arrow. It was my fault. Only I could and would be blamed for failing. With this came logic. I said to Lorrel something along the lines of “we have to get ourselves back up the hill until we hit a genuine trail sign. Then we must follow the route more carefully” (there may have been one or two naughty words here and I wasn’t quite so polite mind, poor Lorrel!). Once back up the hill I spotted the mistake and we went for it again at a faster pace, we had lost about another 20-25mins in total of time I hadn’t planed for. Stressed at this point doesn’t cut how I felt.

The last 24 miles were covered with Luke. A combination of marching, jogging and sometimes clambering. The last 5 miles were at times on a rocky trail in real difficult lighting (head torch not great at offering depth in total darkness). Spending the night moving staring at my feet concentrating endlessly in the fear that one bad trip on a tree root or rock could end it all was taking its toll. I now felt severe pain through my entire legs too. Luke showed tough love to keep me on track!

The last few miles dragged on but it was apparent nothing stupid now and I would finish sub 24 hours. I remained in a high level of anxiety until I crossed the line however. I was scared of a last minute hiccup so chose to focus hard.

I completed the race in 23 hours 21mins and  30 secs having run 106 miles in total.

My race position was 9th out of 50 determined 100 mile starters of which over half failed to complete the distance which is common in a 100 mile race!!

My support crew from Outklass Fitness was fundamental to my success and I can’t thank them enough. I had given them check points in which to meet me for food and drink supplies and they never let me down, following me for the entire race. A big thanks to the flight navigator James Fenwick!!

A special thanks to my girlfriend Laura for sticking with me for 7 months of obsessive training habits. Along with strange sleeping, eating and working habits!!! As well as the beliefs, the doubts, the highs and the lows. You made this possible Laura. Thank You, we did it!!

Thanks to the Facebook Crew for staying with it until the wire – I know who you were. Awesome!!

I have missed out loads of people here. Do not be offended your thanks is on it’s way!!

With the total raised now over £11 000 for Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice I am pleased to have justified so many people’s belief in me and proud to have had the privilege to work hard on a great cause and be victorious.

For those of you that still wish to sponsor me you can still do so at www.justgiving.com/Ronnie-Staton.

Many thanks.

I look forward to our next challenge…………………

Ronnie

Just a follow on from the nutrition workshops we ran for groups! They went really well and it was lovely to meet you all!

It was nice to see so many of you interested and with lots of questions on food, individual nutritional needs and other topics in nutrition!

To support you further we have attached two sets of five day meal plans, one for vegetarians and one for meat eaters. Have a look through these and see what you think! They will provide you with all the essential nutrients to help you achieve your training potential and individual goals!

If you have any further questions around Nutrition or if you would like a 1-2-1 session to look at putting together an individual nutrition plan then please contact me via James or Luke.

Look forward to seeing you again

Mia Johnson

Nutritionist

Simply click on the following links to download the full handout…

Meat eater

Vegetarian

Nutrition Workshop Slides

You would have thought that if can run, walking would come easy right? Wrong! It is well documented to not be the case! The simple reason for this lies in the fact that the two movements although both complex and involve forward motion, they are actually very different movements. Naturally walking rarely comes high on the priority list of a runner and for most this comes through good reason. However, ultra running is an entirely different beast!

A 100 mile race means you aim to get to the finish as fast as possible. So of course in an ideal world you would run the entire way. This is not just an ideal for some. There are ultra runners capable of this making them the best in the world and a credit to the human race finishing in times of 13 – 17 hours depending on terrain. For me however, I aim to finish in under 24 hours. For me, the fastest way to the line will sometimes be to walk, while I gain strength to run again. If I don’t train to walk (or accept that I will need to walk) then when I can’t run any longer, what would I do? The answer is the recipe for failure. I would just keep trying to run. Eventually I would become totally exhausted, pass out and not finish the race. This is not an option, I want to raise £10,000 for Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and I want to make every one proud. So I’m training to walk and the Cumbria Way was the venue!

The alarm sounded Friday, 4^th March at 2.30am. I had got little sleep after rushing around packing my things and planning the weekend’s events. I was in fact on my way to Whitehaven for a Christening and I had to hit Carlisle by the absolute latest 21.30 on Saturday to be able to get the last train to Whitehaven where I was to be picked by a mate. However, it is completely dark at 18.30 so realistically this was my true deadline. The clothes I needed once there I had posted to a friend. I left the house just after 3am and made the 3 hour drive to Ulverston (Start/finish of The Cumbria Way) where I left my car at the train station. I was walking by 7am.

My focus for this trip was very different from the others. On this trip I aimed to be self sufficient and deliberately stress myself! I had chose to walk as hard as I could until dark – then wild camp in the valleys in a Blizzard bad (foil bag) – then get up and walk again all day. I felt I needed to know I could be cold, sleep deprived, even potentially lost at times and yet preserver. Still keep moving forward. The Cumbria Way Official Route was irrelevant to me. This just gave me a direction and a chance to map read. I already know I need help with this though and I don’t need it for the race, so I very often strayed from the route just following a north direction. What mattered to me was time on feet. Also, importantly here was another opportunity to see what foods worked well for me. In addition, it was also a chance to see how my feet would  hold up especially once wet due to the bogs early on the route.

Having walked for over 10 hours without sitting once or stopping for more than 5 minutes I was now entering the most rugged part of the route. As I was approaching Stake Pass I was increasingly aware that I had not had a signal on my mobile for about 6 hours. I had photo copied the route for my Dad and had planned to text at least every 5 hours showing my exact location. Now, I was unable to do this and heading into the valleys I knew I would not get a signal until tomorrow at some point. In fact, it would mean no contact until I hit Stonewaith where the map showed a public phone. Really I should have called when I pasted the pub about half and hour ago but lost in my determination to get as far as possible on day one, I wasn’t thinking clear.

I passed a few walkers leaving the hills. I was getting increasingly strange and worried looks as they was of course heading home before the dark set in and I was going into the heart of the valleys where they knew there was no shelter. I asked two guys if by some miracle they had a signal. They didn’t. They suggested I return to the pub but I really did not want to go back on myself. Then one guy asked me if I had a piece of paper. I realized instantly what he was suggesting. I was tired I thought to myself, this was simple and yet I don’t think I would have thought of it. I always carried a pen and paper for situations like this. One piece of paper has my name written on it, any relevant medical notes and important contact numbers like my Dad. This is in case I’m unconscious or unable to talk or of course worse case scenario, I’m dead. The other piece of paper I keep blank. This I could use like I did here or in the case of emergency the person who found me may want to jot down exactly where I am to tell/show the rescue team. I scribbled down “Dale – Past Checkpoint  C – stopping for night –  feeling good -Dad (and then his tel number)”. The guys kindly offered to call from the pub once there to pass on my message. I believed they would and I felt a huge relief.

I made it up Stake pass and came back down off the hill into the valley alongside Langstrath Beck. I was pushing harder trying to get as far as I could before complete darkness but the time already 18.00 I knew I only had minutes. I knew my head torch would not offer enough depth of light to make it feasible to continue on this now incredibly broken and rocky path. I considered bringing a hand torch too which would have offered this depth. It was the wrong time to linger on this as the bottom line was, I did not bring it! I went as long as I could until every other step I was tripping up. I said out loud to myself as I hit the ground at one point “this is stupid Ron, hit your head and you’re a gonna, so stop man, right now”. This was sound advice. I scanned to my right looking for a rock.

I had a plan of how I was to try and sleep. I was to get into the blizzard bag but I also had something called a Bothy bag. This is an emergency shelter often used by walking groups when they break for lunch. Simply put the bothy is a bag that pulls over your head and has no ground sheet. It is designed for two people to sit in and is not long enough to lay down in. Hence my plan was to lean up against a rock legs stretched out and therefore the bothy would be long enough to cover my upper and lower body almost as if I was sat.

I selected the rock and climbed into the blizzard bag. The grass was wet and I had no ground sheet instantly feeling the coldness come through. I got into the bothy, tried to  pull it far enough under me to protect my backside from the ground then attempted to pull it over my outstretched legs. It was now completely dark. The time was 18.40,  I could still make out the huge hills engulfing me, but that was it.

To my horror the bag didn’t fit. If I wanted to stretch out my legs I had to lean forward off the rock. If I wanted to lean back on the rock I had to sit crossed legged all cramped up. I tried laying down in the fetus position instead which worked a little better. I now felt exhausted but by this point not too cold. I used my rucksack as a pillow and I thought I had passed out for what I perceived a good few hours. Excitedly I turned on my phone to check the time thinking it was about 3-4am. I would now only have to endure the extreme coldness I was feeling by this time  for a few hours, no problem I remember thinking. To my absolute horror it was 21.30. I was now very uncomfortable, very cold, wet from condensation and extremely tired. I promised myself I would not look at the clock for a long time. I aimed for midnight. I waited as long as possible until confident that it was past midnight, so I would be pleased to be further through the night than estimated. The phone loaded and I looked on willing it to be nearly morning so the light would be here soon and I could get moving to get warm. To my disbelief it was 22.43.

I now had to do more and more to try and stay warm. Don’t get me wrong here mountaineers stay out in far colder conditions than this and would cope better. I found it hard for a number of reasons. Bad judgment, poor equipment and inadequate clothing! I tried to keep the foil close to me and squeeze out any air pockets. I frantically rubbed by body and legs while curled up tightly in the fetal position. This offered me only immediate comfort and 30 seconds later I was cold again. I remember at one point, half awake half dreaming with exhaustion that the hill opposite me turned into a hotel and I was chatting to the walkers from earlier and they were advising me to go into the hotel. I remember replying that they were right as I was now really cold so I agreed and entered. Then I came round and the harsh reality would bite me. I really had no choice but to sit this one out, it’s what I planned, it’s what I expected and strangely it’s what I wanted.

To make things worse the ground was slopping away from the rock steeper than I had originally thought. On the wet grass I was slowly sliding down the slope and therefore away from my rucksack acting as a pillow. To get back up to it I had to wiggle like a caterpillar. I didn’t have the energy to laugh but I was smiling on the inside at how stupid this felt and how funny it would have looked. Every time I wriggled it promoted downward movement which meant I had to worm aggressively almost jumping up the slope with my body. This helped keep me warm so I didn’t mind it too much. I could have moved camp but I didn’t want to get out of the foil. I needed a focus to get through the next 5 hours of cold darkness. I would rub my body for a bout 30 seconds,  rest 30 seconds then repeat about 5 times. After this I would do the worm. After this I would rub again. Then I would tense my entire body for about 5 seconds then relax and repeat over and over until I was shattered. Then I repeated the whole process over and over and over. Still feeling too cold I was considering getting out of the bag to perform star jumps and burpees. I began laughing at the thought of this, this was insane, and in an insane way I loved it! Racing thoughts of daily life cease. You have one goal and this boils down to surviving. I find peace in these moments. I feel alive.

Eventually I was passing out for a minute here and there breaking my keep warm exercises up which helped pass the time. The light started to creep in at 5.50am. I got out of the bag, stripped naked and jogged on the spot briefly while the cold breeze dried my wet body. Then I replaced my undergarments with the clean ones from my bag. This felt such a relief. By 06.45 I was on the move again. I warmed up quickly and felt good about the day ahead. Throughout all of this I hold the focus of what I am training for and more so why I am doing it now. Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice.

After checking in with my Dad from a pay phone I walked about another 35 miles. To hit Carlisle before dark when I reached Keswick I made the decision to knock 7 miles off the standard route by jumping on a bus. This didn’t matter to me as I had done the mileage I wanted to do and was to achieve the time on feet too. I had also done it sleeping rough and unaided carrying the food and water I needed. Mapping my route later I had walked approx 70 miles. I was in no real pain and felt capable of running. Having had three hours sleep in 48 hours I was feeling a little strung out sure but not too bad. I caught the train from Carlisle and my mates were in Parton (Station before Whitheaven) to pick me up. They told me how my clothes I posted had not got there but they had brought some for me. They of course found it hilarious. They also thought what I had done to get there was incredibly humorous too. I would have to agree. We had a catch up over a pub meal where I eat for England! I had salmon, salad, vegetables, onion rings and chunky chips!! I felt well enough for a couple of pints to celebrate. Isobella’s Christening  followed on the Sunday and was a fantastic day. I topped up on my iron levels with Guiness and got home at 5am! Monday I made the long journey home to be at work for “Rise with Ronnie” at 6.30am Tuesday. A truly memorable weekend! As my brother would say, “keep the tempo”!!

Don’t let all this training be for nothing! Get in early and sponsor me for the 100 mile run in August. If I hit my target, when I hit my target it will pay for a nurse for 100 days at Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice

http://www.justgiving.com/Ronnie-Staton

The challenge was set on December 13th 2010; I had just finished one of our bag classes delivered by our very own Bag specialist James Fenwick. The session consisted of two spin tests one at the start of the session and one at the end with a whole lot of dynamic exercises in between. At this point I had only been using the 12kg bag!

1st Spin test time 2.52

2nd Spin test time 3.28

As we finished the session I walked through reception with the comments of “ About time you started using a real Bag Staton” for those of you that know us, competition between our great team of trainers is as high as ever with each one of us prepared to break all boundaries for victory! The endorphins had kicked in and adrenalin was high, this is not the ideal time to start being tormented by the boys and being led in to saying something you know you may regret, but I said it anyway “Give me 4 weeks and I will smash that 17kg Bag in under 3.30 “.Straight away this was posted all over face book with no turning back!

My 4 week training journal

Week 1, 3 sessions consisting of-

10 spins each way 10 push ups, 1 min rest x 5 sets.

Wow my grip was in real trouble, all I could think of is how am I meant to keep hold of this bag for 5 sets with no rest!

Week 2, consisted of 2 training sessions and a practice spin test!

Mon, Wed 10 spins each way, 10 push ups x 5 sets, followed by 5 sprint sets of the same reps on the 12 kg bag, all sets had a 45 secs rest period in between. A sprint set is designed to hopefully up your speed throughout the test especially in the 4th and 5th set when your close to hitting your time, the spin is very different keeping the bag close to your body at all times.

Thurs, Spin test 3.33, this gave me a good idea of what I would need to do from here in.

Week 3, consisted of same as week 1 but 30 secs rest in between sets instead of 45 secs.

Week 4 Spin test!!

Here it was the day in which I could be eating my words or feeling the glory, it was Tuesday the 11th and one of our trainers Neil aka the professor timed by James went for the spin test hitting a great time of 3.02. Now the pressure was really on! After Neil hit the 3.02 James decided to have a go getting an even better time of 2.51, of

course I had 4 more days to go to the day of my final test but again watching the boys inspired me to do it there and then. I did a 6 minute warm up, James got the video out for evidence, either success or failure we said no matter what this video would be posted for all to see.

Within the 5 sets your mind goes totally blank all you can think of is trying to ignore the pain you start to feel, your grip starts tightening, your heart rate starts to go through the roof but the determination to succeed and the motivation of the boys pushing me came through.

I completed the challenge in the time of 3.00, 4 days short of my initial deadline and 30 secs faster than my challenge time. My only disappointment was I didn’t go sub 3 minutes!

My summary of this training journey is everybody in training or just life in general needs to have a goal, set your sights high but realistic, once achieved raise the bar higher and go again. For me there are no boundaries in life apart from the ones we set ourselves.

Thanks for reading and keep the tempo…

Luke Staton