Service & Devotion: Light Of A Clear Blue Morning

It's been a long dark night

And I've been a waitin' for the morning

It's been a long hard night

But I see a brand new day a dawning

This post's lyrics come to you courtesy of Dolly Parton. I missed Dolly at Glastonbury because (have I mentioned?) I was traipsing down the Grand Union Canal instead. I love Dolly. My blog's title, 'Service & Devotion', is a line from Dolly's 9 to 5. You could blame impressionable teenage years spent in Kentucky, but I like to think its because I like a tough, tenacious woman with big hair and a penchant for glamour. Hence my friendship with Fran too.

As I write, my feet are still throbbing and my muscles still ache, and I'm reflecting on our team's achievement over the past weekend.

Every single one of us pushed themselves to their absolute limit out there. No-one left anything behind. In the end Jamie, Siobhan, Shelly and I did the full 101.5km. Michelle was sent home by a physio at 50km with suspected torn muscle, we ordered Stuart home at 75km fearing he would injure himself irreparably if he went on. In the dawn of Sunday, as a long, bleak night spent stumbling over rocky paths with bats swirling into the dimly-lit beam of our head torches transformed into a clear blue morning, Siobhan observed that we'd all learned something about ourselves.

It sounds like a cliché but she couldn't have been more right. Here's what I learned over the past few months training and the toughest 28 hours I think I've ever had:

Never be too proud to ask for help.

At 40km my feet were shot. My spirit was broken and every step was agony. I had to ask for help and it came in the form of my amazing husband who carried both our backpacks for the next 10km until we reached the half-way checkpoint. At that checkpoint I had my feet seen to by an A&E doctor and a session with a physio on my legs. That got me to the end. Had I not asked for help then, I would probably never have finished. Asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, its a tactic to give you what you need to go on.

When the task ahead of you seems too big, break it down into bite size chunks.

We learned early on that we weren't walking 101.5km; we were walking to the next check-point. As long as we could get there, have a drink, check our feet, lie down for 5 minutes, we could go on. Don't look at the size of the challenge, look to the next milestone.

Focus on your own game.

Early on, I was intimidated by the sight of three men in t-shirts listing all the challenges they'd completed this year: Kilimanjaro, Three Peaks, Marathons, Triatholons. I felt woefully inadequate. They dropped out at 61km. If I'd let myself be psyched out comparing myself to them, I might have gone the same way. Equally, I don't know what injuries they were carrying, or what was going on inside their heads. Their journey wasn't mine, comparison was pointless.

There is no such thing as the Dog Poo fairy.

I know this because there are a lot of signs on the Northamptonshire branch of the Grand Union telling you. I'm disappointed, obviously. I love a mythical figure as much as the next person. But the message is simple: no-one else is going to pick up your crap. Leave stuff as you found it... or better.

J.F.D.I.*

If we'd thought too hard about what we were doing, we wouldn't have done it. J.F.D.I. doesn't mean don't plan, don't be prepared, don't train - all of that was critical and without it we'd have fallen at the first checkpoint. It just means that there comes a point when all the preparation is done and all that's left is to *Just F-ing Do It.

As long as you're moving forward, you're making progress.

No matter how slowly, or how painfully. If you are moving towards your goal, that's all that matters. Churchill was right: when you're going through hell, keep going.

Don't trust the official statistics.

As my dad once told me; there are lies, damned lies, and statistics. You might have noticed that this wasn't a 100km walk; it was a 101.5 km walk. A small detail they omitted to tell us. Believe me, at 99 km it makes a huge difference whether you have 1km or 2.5 km to go.

Don't be held back by other peoples' expectations.

It's easy to underestimate someone based on the limited information you have about them. Based on what they knew of me, some people might have thought I wasn't capable of completing this challenge. Had I believed them I'd never have done it. Other people's opinions of you are none of your business - keep your eyes on the horizon and never entertain the thought that you aren't up to the challenge.

On reflection, I reckon these are lessons for anything. For life, for the tough times, for those people affected by cancer and those people wanting to do something about that.

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to learn them. We wouldn't have done it without your support and your sponsorship goes to giving Fran, and future 1 in 3's the means to fight their challenge. That's something important, something incredible. You did that.

www.justgiving.com/franschallenge

PS. It isn't too late to make a difference - the sponsorship page is open for another two months.

PPS. Apologies for the strong language, but you should have heard me at 76km - sailors were blushing.

PPPS. We've been asked for pictures, so here are a few from the challenge...