The Who The What The Why

As with many other blogs most of what I have written to date has been self-indulgent drivel primarily acting as an excessively detailed diary for my future enjoyment. There is, however, more to this blog than keeping me occupied through the cold dregs of winter. When Simeon asked me and Ed to run the London Marathon with him I had no knowledge of Ovarian Cancer, highlighting the importance of Target Ovarian’s work in educating people on the disease.

There are 6,800 new cases of Ovarian Cancer in the UK each year, affecting 1 in every 48 women. Catching it early can reduce fatality by up to 90%, this would equate to 6,120 lives saved each year if people where more educated in how to spot the symptoms and ensure that they act on their suspicions. In spite of this awareness of Ovarian Cancer and its indicators amongst those most likely to be affected is negligible and the UK has one of the worst survival rates in Europe. Only 4% of women in the UK understand the symptoms of ovarian cancer with half of all women confusing the disease with cervical cancer.

Ovarian Cancer is most commonly found in woman who have gone through the menopause, primarily affecting the over 50, but is also found in younger woman. Due to confusion of the disease people mistakenly believe a smear test will help detect ovarian cancer and the symptoms can often be confused with more common conditions, like irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), and can therefore be missed by GPs.

Target Ovarian Cancer wants to help women across the UK learn about ovarian cancer and raise awareness of the symptoms¹:

• Feeling full or having difficulty eating on most days
• Persistent tummy pain
• Being bloated or having a swollen tummy on most days

These can all be key symptoms of ovarian cancer, when experienced on most days. If you have any of these symptoms on most days, although likely to be harmless, you should be checked out by a GP. In 1 out of 10 cases ovarian cancer is inherited, so if you only have one relative who has had ovarian cancer it is likely this was just a ‘one off’ case. If you have two or more relatives on the same side of your family you should let your doctor know, so they can decide if you are at increased risk of developing the disease. Why not take the test:

How Target Ovarian helps¹

• GPs: Target Ovarian Cancer (TOC) commissions BMJ Learning, a leading provider of educational resources for health professionals, to develop an online learning module that will radically alter GP’s understanding of ovarian cancer. The module is free for all GPs to access and has gained endorsement from the Royal College of GPs. Over 2000 GPs have already completed the module.
• Pharmacists and women: TOC has been working closely with pharmacy chains including Superdrug, Rowlands and Morrisons to raise awareness of symptoms among pharmacists and women in the general public. Over 100,000 symptoms leaflets have been circulated as part of this campaign.
• Occupational Health professionals: TOC has developed a programme of activity that occupational health professionals can access to update their knowledge and that of their colleagues on ovarian cancer.
• ‘Let’s Talk’ awareness programme: Is for individuals who want to use their experience of ovarian cancer to raise awareness of symptoms. 'Let’s Talk' includes a booklet packed with awareness raising tips and ideas and day courses at venues across the country.

In order for Target Ovarian Cancer to continue its lifesaving work educating people about the symptoms and helping those with Ovarian Cancer please sponsor us by following This Link

¹ Information taken from Target Ovarian Cancer website www.targetovarian.org.uk

Fitness Hurts

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We Were Victorious!

Pheidippides was a man whose prowess and mythology lead to a sport which: to a few means lifelong dedication, to some means personal achievement but to most means cold afternoons dragging mud soaked plimsolls across the tarmacked fields of their schools local park. But what is the story behind the modern day Marathon introduced by Pierre de Coubertin, with the strong backing of Michel Breal, to the 1896 inaugural Olympic games. Having researched this (mainly Wikipedia I’ll admit as I’m not producing a thesis on the subject) I found a number of varying stories as to the true origin of Pheidippides’ myth but most agree on the following details:
 

King Darius I (aka Darius The Great) was ruler of Persia during the height of its power (550-486 BC) and arguably the Middle East’s most prolific war-monger. It is with little surprise then that in 490 BC after having been insulted with rebellion by his subjugates and their allies, he responded with vengeful fury on the Aegean states. A decade earlier Athens and their neighbours the Eretrians had sent aid to the Ionian Revolt hoping to end Archamenid rule in the region and further their own influence. Darius eventually put down this revolt and, after crushing all remaining odours of decent in Ionia, turned his attentions to the meddlesome guilty parties and on fulfilling his promise to Burn Their Cities to the Ground.

To ensure their rulers harsh justice was dispatched and there were no further thoughts of uprising in the area, Darius’ naval generals Datis and Artaphernes were sent with their armada to the Hellenistic states. After a number of early successes taking the Cyclades islands and Eretria, Athens was up next for assault and Marathon was to be the launching pad for their incursion. Waiting for them was the distinguished general Miltiades The Younger and 10,000 of Athens’ celebrated Hoplites (joined by a number of Plataeans).

Outnumbered two-to-one and hoping for the support of Sparta, Miltiades sent Pheidippides the staggering 140km with a message of desperation and expectation (an excursion that inspired the punishing Spartathlon). Unfortunately the 300 of Thermopylae had long since passed away and what was left of Sparta’s great warriors seemed reluctant to help (citing religious obligation as the reason for delay). The Athenian Generals held there position for five long days in the hope of reinforcement but none came. It was sheer luck and tactical genius that broke the deadlock when Persian cavalry movements inspired Miltiades to launch an offensive and drive the invading army back to the sea. 

It is at this point that we have historians such as Plutarch recounting Pheidippides’ race back to Athens to deliver the good news and upon arriving crying "Nenikēkamen!" (We were Victorious) then dying from exhaustion. 

Although a romantic story it is widely agreed that the following is closer to the truth: Having been defeated at Marathon Datis and Artaphernes’ only chance of saving face was to send their fleet to the undefended city of Athens and pray for an easy victory. Miltiades knew this and ran his army of battled-worn Hoplites the 42 km (26 miles) back to the capital to fend of this new wave of attack (inadvertently completing  the first ‘Marathon’). Eventually the Persians conceded defeat and so began the slow decline of the great Archamenid Empire, finally ending in 330 BC at the hands of another great Greek hero of antiquity, Alexander The Great.

 

So there you have it, despite being full of holes and probably massively inconsistent the story of Marathon and the great Athenian messenger Pheidippides is a fascinating yarn and a fable that inspired such titans of athletics as: Haile Gebreselassie, Paula Radcliffe, Mensen Ernst and Forest Gump.

These Legs Were Made For Running so That’s Just What They’ll Do.

My lungs are burning and every breath tastes like sucking on the end of an exhaust pipe. Running to work and back, although on paper seems a great way to train, during a period of the week which is otherwise wasted on mundane articles in the Metro, has opened my eyes to the London’s pollution problems. I know that compared to Shanghai, Dubai or Mumbai we have exceptionally clean air, but when so many of us have taken to the bicycle and varying fines are imposed on vehicles entering our hallowed capital, burning lungs after 3.1 miles cannot be a good sign.

Because of this, for my 10 mile medi-marathon, a trip to Sussex for the weekend is planned. Saturday I hit the road at 08:00 and with the crisp, clean sea breeze circulating through my body the first three to four miles sail by. It’s between the fourth and fifth mile, a distance that I’m usually quite happy with, that my mind starts wondering to the five miles still left to go.

Obviously this isn’t the fabled Wall that seasoned runners talk about but there is a small psychological battle being waged and I’m not overly determined to win. Setting myself the halfway roundabout as a goal before I pause for the break I’ve resided myself to, I take a swig of Lucozade and plod on. Before I know it the neighbour’s patriotic flagpole is in site and it appears that the simple act of setting achievable goals throughout the run has got me home and dry. An important lesson has been learnt.

To Work and Back

Running to Work and Back, seemed like an ambitious idea at first but definitely not impossible. I got into exercise whilst living in Sydney where every sole is a fitness guru and the morbidly obese are expelled to the Western Suburbs, inland and away from the celebrated beeches. My '3 times a week' run generally lasted half an hour and got me into the best shape I had ever been. Because of this I'm feeling confident about getting back on the road, I haven't however, taken into account the 6 months between fitness obsessive Sydney and present day, months that have been filled with: lots more celebrating (Football World Cup, Ryder Cup, The Ashes, etc.) catching up with old friends and the unforgiving festive season. 

After Saturday's tepid start to training there was a slight feeling of dread as I packed my rucksack in preparation for the morning’s departure. My svelte and active physique of Sydney no longer exists and the prospect of panting my way along the streets of Fulham prompts me to pack a fully charged oyster card and a £20 note should I have to resort to a taxi.

Setting off at 07:00 the Sparrow has only just farted but as I'm still half asleep it's not nearly as painful as I thought it would be. The run is broken up into 3 perfectly lengthed stages which I couldn't have planned better if I'd been on the 2012 Olympic Marathon committee. Running the last 200 metres along Westbourne Terrace I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. I believe this is accredited to a sudden rush of endorphins and for 30 seconds I'm absolutely buzzing, sprinting the final 100 yards to the office. Because of this the return home becomes highly anticipated, unfortunately it turns out to be far less exhilarating. 
Unbeknownst to me Hyde Park has a closing time and I manage to lock myself in. With nothing but the sweat off my upper lip as sustenance the only escape route I can see is to vault the spiked fence and then sprint away from the oncoming guards. Fortunately my ten a day habit at school has trained me well for these eventualities so I got home safe with just a torn trouser leg to give away the nights adventure.

Take One

January 4th 2011, first day back at work and there's an email from Simeon explaining more about Target Ovarian Cancer and a guide on how to achieve match day fitness in the limited time we've given ourselves (no mention of giving up the booze but I figure it can only help). I've given myself the first week off and will start my training on the weekend with a short run around Hyde Park with Ed. We'll be getting our marathon pack via email next week at which point we have to start figuring out how we're going to raise the £25k target set by Target Ovarian. Slowly it’s starting to dawn on me that this isn't just a matter of preparing my body to run 26 miles and 385 yards, we also have people relying, in part, on us to help them continue their life saving work. 

Saturday's jaunt around Hyde Park (6-7 km depending on which route we take) starts off with me eagerly arriving 25 minutes early on my newly repaired, purple 7 gear ratio 5th hand bike. We set off from Marble Arch, iPod's in one ear and Blue Powerade bottles at the ready, and make it down to the Round Pond before needing our first break. We've barely done 3km and are already suffering from chronic chest pains and severe dizzy spells, in actual fact we feel completely drunk! 

Managing to make it to Prince Albert's Statue at a slow trot (I do realise this is starting to sound like a Rough Guide to central London) we pick up the pace for the downhill straight whilst admiring the view and continuing our seemingly endless nattering. We make it back in around 40 mins realising that all that had been accomplished is further knowledge of each other’s activities over the last two weeks and a shared opinion of some of our fellow midday Hyde Park-ians.

Marathon Man.

Marathon Man Boy.

January 2nd 2011, slugging down my last watered down pint of Carlsberg at Geneva airport (£6.50) I'm contemplating the months ahead and assessing my likely chances of survival. In a few hours’ time I'll be back in Blighty when my training for the London Marathon begins. I've sworn of all things "bad" (including piss poor lager) till 17th April, and will try and run the micro-marathon of 3.1 miles from home to work and back again every day. I've had a month or so to mull over this predicament and although still extremely keen to go through with it, looking down at my highly invested belly I'm wondering whether it will actually be feasible. 

In mid-November at the start of the Christmas party season I was out watching one of the most exciting games of English rugby since the 2003 World Cup Final. This is where I met Simeon, an equally avid sports watcher who like me hadn't seen much exercise since his school days and was looking for a way to extend his life expectancy. 

We left the pub and having celebrated for a few hours got onto the subject of Marathons. For some time now I have been recounting my brother’s frankly insane marathon adventures around the world and hoping that, by association, people might find me equally interesting!! 

Having just listed of the 4 or 5 deserts which Jan-Willem has run through, Simeon now chimes in to tell me that he's running the London Marathon and that he needs to put a team together. Being by this time quite well celebrated and having just ranted and raved about my families athleticism I realise that I have no other option but to volunteer my services..... and of course the services of my good mate Ed Mulderig.