The Journey Ends

How did I get here?!!

I actually did it. I cycled all the way to Paris in 24-hours. I didn’t get swept up in the van (anyone too slow has to go in a car with the support crew for a stage), I didn’t fall off, I didn’t crumble into exhaustion and tears, and I even managed to overtake a number of men on the uphills (very proud of that!). I cannot express the relief that it’s over, and the pride at having done something tangible to help Eli, Emily and the other DMD families. So far I’ve personally raised more than £4,500 for Duchenne UK – and between us the Dashers are on £887,000 - a fantastic achievement and one that will make a real difference. Hopefully after the Dash Max and the Cheshire Dash, we’ll have made a million.

At the start with CP and the inspirational creators of
 Duchenne UK

How was it? Some of it was much better than I’d anticipated, some of it was as bad as I’d thought it would be. I had the advantage/disadvantage of having driven the course a number of times so nothing was too great a surprise – but idling up a hill in a car in the lowest gear behind forty huffing and puffing, tired cyclists is quite different to being one of those cyclists!

The relentlessness of the ride is pretty hard going. The stops are so, so short. They call them rest stops but there’s no resting – sometimes you’ll ride 50k and then just have 10 mins to refuel, use the loo, take on water and get back on the bike.  You get so hungry – 10 minutes just isn’t enough time to get the food on board. I was really conscious that those who suffer most are those who don’t get their calorie intake right. There’s a lot of food to eat which I would never normally have in my diet. I had my first Snickers bar in 20 years (I think it was a Marathon bar last time I ate one!)  I had forgotten just how good mini cheddars are. I am happy never to see a jelly baby or protein bar again. I barely ever eat bread – and rediscovered the joy of a good sandwich. The only downside of the high protein high carbohydrate diet is the dreadful wind... trumping my way through the picturesque fields of corn in northern France – still, I guess it’s all forward thrust!

I'll have the popcorn, crisps, fruit, chocolate, sandwiches, jelly beans, peanuts etc etc!

The first day – and indeed the first leg of the first day – is the most hardcore. It was 75k long, the longest section of the ride and had most of the biggest hills, through the South Downs. There was meant to be a very short loo break outside London but somehow we cycled right past it. Alright for the men who could use the “facilities” in the form of roadside hedges. Not so easy for the ladies. Also, cycling gear and the layers and layers of Lycra with zips and oddly placed pockets do not make for easy disrobing. As you arrive at a rest stop – the formidable ride director Emily Waring begins the countdown to you leaving – on more than one occasion I found myself in the loo with less than two minutes to go trying desperately to peel off the layers of sweaty Lycra knowing that there would be no impromptu hedge stops for me along the way. I was very concerned about having a Paula Radcliffe moment on the ride but happily avoided it. Apparently the answer is to not use gels which can have an explosive impact on your insides!

Dawn over Dieppe was an anticipated low point. Shivering with lack of sleep, we stood on already tired legs by the harbour side - knowing that we had to go through everything we’d done on the Friday again - twice over. A very daunting moment. I think the thing that really saw me through was treating it as seven mini rides rather than a whole ride. I concentrated on the chunk ahead of me each time, and the next ‘rest’ break. Looking too far ahead would have been overwhelming. There was one point – about 10am on the Saturday, with 150k behind me and 150 ahead when I had a think about how far I still had to go, and the emotions started welling up and I had to just thrust the fear back down and focus on the patch of tarmac right in front of me.

Made it - RP with L and A

Without doubt the best bit of the Dash is the camaraderie. Coming into Newhaven on the first day my legs just started losing their oomph and I began drifting further and further back down the peloton. And a feeling of hopelessness set in. This guy I’d never met before, Patch, drew up alongside me and began chatting about why we were both there, about cycling, life in general etc. And before I knew it, we were in Newhaven. I may have been cycling, but he totally got me there. You see it the whole time on the Dash, strangers – united only by the cause – helping each other out. Literally putting their hands on people’s backs and pushing them up hills. There were two lovely ladies riding at about the same pace as RP and I – Laura and Anna – with whom we chatted and joked quite a lot. They were an absolute pleasure to hang out with and made the miles fly. For me, the best of it all was hanging out with RP, who I love but never get to see enough of as we both lead very busy lives. In 24 hours you can catch up on a lot of chat. It was such a pleasure. She’s just that little bit fitter than me too, so when the darkness descended, she’d up the chat a bit and get me over the next hill (literally).

Cycling into Paris was wonderful (although tired bottoms suffered on the cobbles!) All the cyclists united so that we were in a peloton 160 riders thick. A sea of black and orange.  They closed the roads going into the centre of Paris for the ride so there was a stretch at the end where the Champs- Elysees was just black and orange Duchenne Dash jerseys from pavement to pavement.  CP – who’d been a ride captain in a different group – joined RP and I as we cycled round the Arc de Triomphe. It was a great moment.  In our midst were a number of dads of children with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy – some newly diagnosed – and the Dash’s first ever mum of a Duchenne child. I hope they felt cradled and buoyed by the love felt for them by the Dashers.

In terms of damage, my legs are black and blue – I stopped counting on one leg when I got to a dozen bruises. I ache from hip to toe three days on. I’m limping slightly - my right knee is properly sore. My right shoulder is quite painful. The heels of my hand are numb. And I can confirm that there was a certain amount of chafing, which stopped pretty much as soon as I got of the bike for the final time (a heavenly moment). But I’m properly proud of what I’ve achieved.  The day after the Dash I went to Eli’s grandmother’s birthday party. He sang – so beautifully - a solo of his favourite song, Wonderwall. It contains the words “Maybe, you’re gonna be the one to save me”.  And I thought that maybe each and every person who takes part in the Dash could be the one to save him.  I thought I hadn’t any tears left after the ride itself. Turns out I had more. I hope and pray that this Dash, and the money it raised, is the one to save him, and that he’ll be singing just as beautifully at his grandmother’s next significant birthday in 10 years’ time.

I’ve enjoyed writing this blog – I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it. I hope to be on the support crew for the Dash next year if they’ll have me – I am very, very happy to retire from long distance cycling. If you haven’t sponsored me, it’s not too late!

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/ClareRunacres

Please think of Duchenne UK for future fundraising. 

ACHIEVEMENTS

Learning to ride a road bike and cycling it to Paris in 24 hours

Being part of raising nearly 900-thousand pounds for Duchenne UK

AMBITIONS

Finding an effective treatment for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy

Glammed up for the Gala do

On the Eurostar home!

Dash Day

Dash day has finally come (thank god) – I, and about 160 others, are setting off today to cycle from London to Paris. To say it has been a challenge for me is an understatement. Learning to ride a road bike and building the fitness required to go the distance (hopefully) has been extremely tough, it’s been a big financial commitment (who knew all that aluminium and lycra was so expensive), and a big time commitment. Thank you to my family, friends and colleagues who have supported me through it. I feel scared of the pain that lies ahead, delighted that it’s nearly over, and proud to be part of an amazing event which will change lives.

Today has never been about me. Today is about my godson Eli and his mother Emily, and all the families who live every day with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. My ride ends in 24-hours time, tomorrow afternoon, when I hopefully arrive in one piece at the Eiffel Tower. For DMD families, all day every day is a challenge which far outweighs anything I do. 

I have watched what happens when a family learns for the first time about Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.  I have watched my godson learn to play football, and I have watched him lose the ability to play football. I have watched him learn to climb stairs and I have watched him learn that he can no longer climb stairs. I have watched him understand little by little, as he is grows, how different he is from his peers.  I have watched his mother watching his growing realisation– and have held her as she fought against despair, listened as she’s struggled to try to come up with the words to explain to her son why there is no medicine that can fix his muscles. 

Duchenne UK – and the Duchenne Dash – are changing the future, for Eli and all families with DMD.  We’re hoping to raise a million pounds TODAY. The charity is amazing. It’s funding research, clinical trials, the doctors and nurses to deliver those trials and it’s lobbying the government and drugs companies to speed up the process for delivering drugs. I’m proud to represent the charity today, and I hope that I do them proud by actually getting to Paris. I will tweet updates @ ClareNews2  #DuchenneDash. Wish me luck! xxx

ACHIEVEMENTS

Getting to the start line

AMBITIONS

Getting to the finish line

Buttered Brown Shrimps and Coastal Wind

(NB - the ride is tomorrow, this was written last week)

For my last full week before the ride I went to Norfolk on holiday. I managed to fit in a three hour ride (with a little rest stop at a seafood shack for buttered brown shrimps on toast - yum), a two hour ride (with a short pub stop – cheating, but I was on holiday!) and a one hour ride. Who said Norfolk was flat? Probably the same person who claims the ride from Dieppe to Paris is flat!  I’d definitely class it as rolling countryside, with the emphasis on rolling. Good practice for the thighs though, and almost my last chance for decent length rides.

Riding in the countryside is so much nicer than London. If you remove the fear of the sudden opening of car doors in your path, the endless potholes and manhole covers, and the teetering at red lights – suddenly cycling becomes almost pleasant! It also meant I could unclench my fingers from the brakes and put my hands on the central part of the handlebars which eased some of the pressure on my wrists and arms.  I inadvertently added extra protein to my ride, however, by swallowing a few midges along the way. Must remember to keep my mouth shut while cycling! And I must learn to lift my eyes from the road and take in the scenery. Norfolk has very pretty countryside and some lovely villages but my eyes were constantly glued to the road looking for danger. I must make time on the ride to Paris to soak up the scenery.

Norfolk was disappointingly cold and windy. Riding in gusty strong winds is no mean feat. I hadn’t realised how much protection from the wind you get from hedges until I started cycling past some patchy, scraggly ones – in the areas without sufficient foliage you get a proper cross blast of cold hard air wobbling you off centre. The coast road itself had little protection and it was much harder work pushing up the rolling hills into an on shore wind.  But it got me thinking about the weather for the ride itself. Every time I set out in different conditions I say to myself – I hope it’s not snowy/raining/windy/bakingly hot like this on the actual ride. Ideally I would like dry, no wind, cloud cover (I’m rubbish in the sun), warm (but not hot) conditions. Keep your fingers crossed for me! It’s less than a week until ride day.

CP tucking into brown shrimps on toast

CP says I’m match ready for the Dash! It’s all in the mind. He also reminded me that I'll burn 6000 calories in one day which means I can fill my face all the way through the ride, and for several days before (to be fair, I've been putting in some practice on the calorie consumption front, my appetite has really grown doing all this cycling!). The Dash is so close now, I am elated and terrified in equal measures.

AMBITIONS

To drink from my water bottle without slowing to a snail’s pace

ACHIEVEMENTS

Holding the middle bit of the handlebars

I'M JUST £250 SHORT OF MY FUNDRAISING TOTAL - PLEASE SPONSOR ME IF YOU CAN

Foggy Glasses and Nasal Secretions

So, D-Day (Dash day) is fast approaching. When facing moments of extreme stress in my life I find it easiest to focus on the small and insignificant details rather than the big scary picture. Luckily in cycling there’s a lot of kit to focus on to take my mind away from the monumental task around the corner. This week’s kit irritation has been my glasses. Sweating my way up and down the stupidly big hill near my house, as I click down the gears, peddling furiously, inching my way up the stupidly high incline and approaching the top, my see-through cycling glasses invariably fog up. So I’m literally cycling blind up a narrow, twisting, vertiginous path with a line of not-so-patient cars and buses snaking below me. I’m so tired that I am beyond embarrassment or fear.  There’s no way on earth I can pause or stop to clear my glasses because every fibre of my being is being used to keep me upright and moving. I reach the top, panting and mildly hysterical in my own foggy world where I can literally just see my hands on the handlebars and the metre of road in front of me.  Perhaps a blessing in disguise?  

Mountain biker Clare with visor

Road cycling Clare with hat

As I creep up the hill and the fog descends I contemplate how I seem to be the only person with foggy glasses. I had a plastic visor on the top of my cycling helmet when I bought it, but when I did the Brighton ride and arrived at the top of Ditchling Beacon all fogged up once again, someone rather snootily pointed out that only mountain bikers (that wild and mutinous, muddy breed) need the visors and road cyclists (the race horses of the road) don’t countenance plastic visors  so I ditched it. I thought it might improve the fog – but it has, sadly, lingered. I wonder if I have the wrong eyebrows for cycling. I may have inherited my grandfather’s rather fabulous wise-owl brow-set, which could be contributing to the fogging. Not something I can do much about!

One by-product of cycling I hadn’t anticipated is nasal secretions. I have had a cold recently and this has made it spectacularly worse. On long rides, or early in the morning, I develop a perpetual drip on the end of my generously proportioned nose. This became a veritable sticky slick with the onset of my cold. That added to the blossom and pollen being shed from trees this time of year, I’m a picture to behold on my bike rides. The cycling gloves come with a patch of absorbent material on the outside around the base of the thumb, which I’m told is the makeshift cyclist handkerchief – and which I have been using. But I noticed with some alarm on the Brighton ride the number of people snot-firing nostrils while in motion from their bike seats. A dangerous procedure for the unpractised to perform, and dangerously unpleasant for those who follow behind in their firing lines. Not a practice I intend to emulate.

I cycled to my local hospital for an appointment this week and didn’t want to take my road bike as I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave it somewhere secure, so I dusted off my old bike. It’s a single speed bike which, for those as ignorant as myself about cycling issues, means it doesn’t have any gears. It also doesn’t have drop handlebars or cleated pedals – BLISS! The bike isn’t fitted to me in the same way as my giraffe road bike so I slid around the saddle a lot more.  But wider handlebars meant there was less pressure on my wrists. The heavier bike felt more stable. And no cleats and a lower seat meant I felt so much more in control and much less anxious stopping at lights. I’m feeling more and more inclined to retire my road bike at the end of the Dash. Just days left to go – but still £550 short of my target – please sponsor me!

ACHIEVEMENTS

still cycling!

AMBITIONS

to stick at it til the ride on June 8th!