It's March 7th 2015. Exactly two months ago we had my father's funeral. The phrase "time waits for no man" is such a simple exclamation. It almost flippantly rolls off the tongue. Yet, when you lose someone who you love, the clock relentlessly ticks along, taking you further and further away from the last time you saw that person and all of a sudden this simple phrase has so much more meaning.
I find myself back in England's Chiltern Valley once again for the weekend to say a final goodbye to Dad. That said, I don't necessarily see this as an altogether sad occasion. I find it quite an appropriate moment to spread his ashes on the top of a hill with one of the most astounding views of the valley below. No matter what it is you choose to believe in, no one can contest that this view is an honor to any individual to have as their final place.
These thoughts drive me on as my feet pound the asphalt that weaves its way throughout the Hambleden Valley. These views are tireless in how they impress me no matter how many times I return here. To run the roads and through the villages is a privilege. A privilege that dad loved and frequently abused hiking hours upon end throughout the valley, knowing more footpaths and routes than anyone I can think of. Although I spent my formative years tearing around these roads and footpaths, time has allowed me to forget some of them, permitting me to be surprised with the familiarity as I find myself among hedge rows that tweak the memories.
After a slight scare at the end of week 6 - a calf strain - after lot of TLC and some smart training choices, the jet lag ran was the testing bay for the first run in 7 days. Although I wouldn't use the phrase "flying colours", the calf did indeed play well and just over 6 miles of road was crossed pain free. Even the small lambs that I came across running rogue out of the field (promptly returned to their field with some expert jogging shepherd skills) were impressed by how well the calf was doing. I asked them :).
Week 8 will be ushered in with the helping hand of my brother. With a little bit of luck (thank you My Fair Lady) we will make a splash in the Handy Cross lap pool together for the first time since we were 8. I suspect we shall be equally competitive, even if we are older and "wiser". Where's the fun in non-compete swimming?! Although, I may still have to have a serious go at winning the "holding your breath under water championships". I doubt the lifeguards or our fellow lane mates will be too impressed by that competition. Amazingly, the pool is in the same spot and about the same condition as it was when we left it 30 years ago, albeit with a promising renovation under way. Hope they've changed the water though!
It's time to be off and workout how in the world I'm going to complete this week of training. However, what is never in doubt is the way my father's memory drives me on this year and relentlessly motivates to work as hard as my body will allow me. If you are reading this and even remotely find it interesting, please take a moment to visit www.uk.virginmoneygiving.com/cliffsironman and pledge any amount you see fit.
Good luck to us all!
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