William's Run for Fairbridge: Diary of a Novice

The beginning

2010-03-10T04:10:00.000-08:00

Click here to go to the beginning, always a good place to start...

Saturday 1 August: It's all over

2009-08-02T03:39:00.000-07:00

OK. So it's all over. Get home in the rain which started as the race ended. Go out for an Indian (or more precisely a Goan: just try it, Ma Goa in Putney, v v good). As matters of principle, eat some meat, drink two glasses of wine, smoke a cigarette in the balmy garden. Idly wonder with an athletic and amusing son whether to enter the duathlon (run, cycle, run) in Richmond Park on Sep 13.

Some weeks ago I asked if anyone was reading this, and have since noted a) that it only has one follower, a compassionate daughter, and b) has only received one comment, from my compassionate mother.

So here's the question: should it continue, from time to time, with a Fairbridge flavour in particular? Answers in a comment below, in an email (weccles@graphitecapital.com), by courier pigeon or on a postcard please.

Thank you all very much for your donations to Fairbridge, and for reading, if you have been,

William

PS for the results nerds. We came 40th out of just over 400 teams, with an overall time of 2:23:08, including transitions of exactly 06:00. Laura swam in 29:16, almost certainly in the top ten of the swimming women and maybe in the top five. Mark cycled in 1:07:36, coming 37th and averaging 35.5kph (22.2mph for the antediluvian). I ran in 40:16, coming 79th and therefore the weakest link... But Mark and Laura were very kind about it. They work for Fairbridge after all.

Saturday 1 August, Race Day, Part Two

2009-08-01T22:15:00.000-07:00

(OCD warning. There's a lot of detail here. A lot. Only for sad and hardened cases, and perhaps not even for them. For everyone else I recommend skipping to the Summary at the end, at least after the first few paras)

The detail

This triathlon is complicated. We are in the Olympic Team Relay (M+F), start time 11.30. The baton is a clever chip attached to the ankle with a velcro strip, and the cyclist and runner also share a race number which the cyclist wears on his back and the runner on his front.

Everyone gathers in a hall the size of an aircraft hangar, massive, with rows of steel bike racks. Swimmer, then cyclist, then runner. So Laura starts us off, in wetsuit and green hat, bravely into the dock and with easy strokes out to the start line. Now the waters of Victoria Dock are far from limpid. Directly under the flight path for the take off from London City, bitterly cold, brackish with a tinge of fuel oil. Delicious.

Laura is one of these

At 11.30 the whistle goes and they're off, a tangled thrashing of limbs, all bunched together, a jungle out there. Our team pack horse and photographer, Allan, unable to catch our heroine in satisfactory pixels, but we've got one of her on the way out to the start.

Angus, who has already gone way beyond the call, bids us farewell. Here he is by Laura's dock, in trousers of fetching pink of which his children, Georgey (she a gazelle-like runner) and Ian (angelic guitarist) for some reason disapprove:

In our team meeting we agreed a time of 2 hrs 45 mins would be respectable. 30 mins for Laura to swim 1,500 metres (er, how long would it take you? In my case, if I finished at all and gulping breast stroke even permitted, 3 or 4 hours) 5 mins transition (so-called) to Mark (Laura has to take off wetsuit and hat, put them in a fetching blue sack, run up stairs and through the hangar, hand over the chip; he has to run with bike and cycling shoes through the hangar to the start of the cycle course), 80 mins for Mark to cycle 40 km (er. Just averaging 30kph (or for the antediluvian 18.75 mph) including some highly technical turns) 5 mins transition to me, 45 mins for me to run 10 km.

But we don't really mind of course, being balanced mature types for whom the taking part is the point, promoting Fairbridge and having a fun day out.

Mark and I wait nervously with the rows of others for our swimmers to appear. He's doing the visualising thing, so I give him a bit of space. Did I tell you that Mark has done something extremely silly? In June he did the Raid Pyrenean (check out his webpage. Get out your chequebook if you've got any money left after being so generous in my campaign, it's never too late). In a nutshell, 18 major peaks, total climb equivalent to Everest three times, 714km that have to be completed in 100 hours. So he knows what he's doing, although this is the first time he's done one of these, more of an endurance climber than a sprinter he explains.

First out a sprinting man of ludicrous physique with "Army" on his gear. Well there's a surprise. A few more arrive, and cyclists rush off. Then Laura, looking remarkably composed, comes running up with blue bag. Transition pretty smooth, and Mark scoots away.

Mark in action

I choose this moment to leave transition hall, leave the Excel centre altogether and go for a little snooze. This triathlon extravaganza is sponsored by Mazda (Strapline: Run, Cycle, Run, Drive. Yes). Not entirely sure about Mazda, but they have kindly provided large bean bags on the grass outside. Settle into one of these, asking my neighbours to wake me up if I'm still asleep 20 mins later. Do a relaxation thing.

Wake up, chat to the neighbours, then go for a little warm up jog around the local streets. Stretch, with particular focus on Achilles who has been grumbling a little. Consider the Gez tips about the upper body and glutes, the Noakes wisdom about the central governor, not starting too fast etc. Remember that I've had about 1.5 litres of free Gatorade (no caffeine, artificial sweetners, artificial anything) pressed on me during the morning and a pit stop a good idea. Nothing to eat since the bowl of cold rice at 7.30.

Then I become obsessed. First time in my life. Suddenly it becomes overwhelmingly, solely, vitally necessary to buy some gel for my heart rate monitor or it won't work. Simply won't function. Go into OCD Heaven and rush from stall to stall interrupting salespeople in deep and highly technical conversation with customers (just about to buy things with mouthwateringly fat margins and little purpose. Like gel for heart rate monitors).

You won't believe this, but there isn't any, or if there is it's hiding cleverly. Close to obsessive despair. Then I stumble across a stall with a banner that says "relieve stiff muscles in 30 seconds. Try our revolutionary massage stick" or something along those lines.

Now the body in reasonably good shape, but for the last few days there has been a niggling stiffness in neck and shoulder on one side. Something (the central governor? Is it also watching the clock?) takes over and HRM gel is suddenly a childish irrelevance. A few seconds later a Scottish lady is wielding this stick with plastic rings on it with great expertise on the relevant area.

Thank her when she's done the whole back, and gently decline her kind offer to do my legs etc. Explain that it would be tricky to buy a stick right then, and promise to consider it when the race over. (Anyone come across these? Didn't get the name. US imports I think)

Make my way slowly back to transition hall, and to our rack spot, AND THERE IS MARK WAITING FOR ME.....

Only joking. I've got about ten minutes to go before his earliest possible arrival time. Lie on the floor doing final stretches, chat to a fellow runner, then remember to ignore him and everything else. Easier said than done, he's a friendly guy.

Cyclists start arriving, sliding about on their highly technical shoes as they dash to their stations, some barefoot. Subtle. Hurried rackings of bikes, transfers of ankle chips, transfers of race numbers and the runners are off. A bunch comes all at once, Mark amongst them, and we go through the same routine, fumbling a little. He wishes me luck and suddenly it's my turn.

Now let's look at this.

First the weather: light cloud, breeze, 22C, conditions near perfect.

The course, as we've said some aeons ago, flat as an armadillo's foot (nearly, a bridge and slope or two). Reasonable surface (some cobbles, mostly tarmac), not too many awkward turns. Above all not crowded, as by this time what started as Laura's bunch has been well separated, seldom that anyone in the way. My iron man friend even says that last year it was 9.8km, not the full ten.

Preparation: gym sessions with David and Rob, running lesson from Gez, osteopathy, psychotherapy, EFT (do you know about EFT? Magic), homeopathy, dentistry, hynotherapy, music therapy, yoga. The genius of Noakes, tips from Scott, Angus, Graham, Mark, many others. Infinite patience from family members, friends, unfortunates minding their own business who've bumped into me in buses, trains, offices; on hills, beaches, aeroplanes.

For the last month no (or almost no) caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, meat, sugar (in anything), processed food, snacks, dairy. No nuts except Brazils, 3 a day. Supplements of fish oil, multivitamins, extra vitamin B, iodine. Bodyfat down to c.16% from c.20.

Training started 84 days ago on 10 May, with an enforced break for 27 days to 27 June, then continued at a pace. Average of 3.76 sessions (run, cycle, gym or swim/surf) weekly including the break, 5.40 excluding it. Total running distance estimated at 223 km, cycling a further 116 km. Not as structured as originally planned, with, in particular, little fast stuff, Fartlek or otherwise. Very little at race pace (wildest dream: 42 mins, 14.29 kph. Previous best 44:35, 13.46 kph in Hyde Park 2006 (30 June, q.v.)).

(OK, that's more than enough. Just stop. Quit. Leave it.)

Summary

As my run began the weather was perfect and preparations complete. By contrast with the young people of Fairbridge, I have been given every possible advantage (other than natural ability): social, financial, educational, motivational, et al. Laura and Mark the perfect companions and have just done an extraordinary swim and cycle.

And above all, an amazing 155 people have given £12,230.00 to Fairbridge to date (and I think it might not be quite over) and that is a huge motivator. Some of you have even been reading this blog.

So if I'm going to do a good one, it's today.

The run goes well, Noakes advice heeded by the central governor. We don't know our times yet, but it seems to be sub-41 mins and the team seems to have done it in just under 2hrs 30. Laura and Mark join me to cross the line.

Silly wave to Allan, 7.5 km in

A drink is next, although I need to run a further 2,230 metres to keep my promise of doing a metre for every £1 you gave. Run next to the cyclists for 3,000 metres or so, ever hopeful that some straggling donors may come in. Join the others, Allan with photos, and Mark's wife Angela with son Luca (creatively pours his water on the Excel floor to make a puddle for paddling in. Boy after my own heart) for a celebratory drink, and then we all go home.

A question for you, to follow in the next (and final?) post...

Saturday 1 August, Race Day, Part One

2009-08-01T15:03:00.000-07:00

It dawns at last. Restless night. Get up early to move things around my desk and drink redbush tea. Decide to read Noakes' incomparable Lore (qv Thurs 2 July) for last minute wisdom. He says if you don't sleep restlessly on the last night you probably don't mind enough and it won't make any difference to performance. I love him.

He says that a study of marathon runners showed that those who had sex the night before ran an average 5 minutes faster than the others, but more studies needed before a link can be clearly established. Consider volunteering. He says no need to carb load unless doing more than 21k, and on the day bland carbs the best. Eat a bowl of cold rice for breakfast.

He says visualise the race, tell yourself how well it's going to go, be light and happy and humorous. He says (largely) forget the heart rate monitor, the stopwatch and go with your subconscious central governor: it knows what it's doing. He says ignore other runners, the trees, the sky, Big Ears etc, and focus inwards on your own wonderful machine.

He says the greatest error by novices is to go too fast at the start: aim to do the second half faster than the first, with the ideal to keep a constant pace throughout.

You can see how good he is.

Angus winds his long Scottish legs into my little Peugeot and we steam off to Docklands, weaving artfully through the streets, ignoring other cars, speed limits, traffic lights, Big Ears etc. Someone with a considerable sense of humour has introduced a maze of diversions and road closures through 7/8 of the points of the compass around Excel, that vast 21st century cathedral to commerce, so we are a little late in meeting Laura and Mark. They don't seem to mind at all. They work for Fairbridge of course.

There are thousands of people there, mostly looking mean and scrawny and as if they do this stuff daily. It's all very technical, and there is a shopping area which is called OCD Heaven, or if not it should be. I can't quite engage and buy the FT from the shop around the corner.

Angus looking mean and scrawny (2007)

It is 10.30, an hour to go...

(End of Part One)

Friday 31 July

2009-08-01T14:36:00.000-07:00

1 day to go. Tapering going well, even if all major muscle groups (or they should be major) from waist up, faithful to David's prediction, feeling as if they've been through a Victorian sheet mangle, one of those with cast iron frame and tight hardwood rollers, quite squeezy really.

Weather forecast for triathlon course at Excel Centre: overcast with slight risk of showers, possibility of sunny intervals, max 23C. Ahhhhh......

Into the office for early meeting, then a few more. Phone stuck to ear, and/or hand stuck to mouse (rude to look at screen, read emails etc while speaking on phone, sure you never do it) for much of the rest of the day. Shouldn't I be in a hammock or somewhere?

Fortunately have to go home poetically as Angus and Carol are coming to stay. Angus a serious triathlete (what does that make me? A monathlete, a monolith, a mammoth?) secretary of club, the works. Coming to support, laugh etc. Decide I should be carb loading and eat a lot of cardboard. Get indigestion and go to bed early.

Spot the triathlete. He's not for sale.

Today a wonderful £66.67, with many thanks to Anonymous (you know who you are) for finally dealing with the rounding, and to the other stars of the day, total to £12,230.

Thursday 30 July

2009-08-01T14:03:00.000-07:00

2 days to go. Get up and get a shock. Peering blurrily at me out of the morning mirror is a slightly haggard middle-aged man with incipiently cavernous Nigel Lawson cheeks and test-tube brush-short hair. Forgot I'd had been to Vito's yesterday (£9, no queue, feels like Brindisi or Lecce, not darkest Putney) and told Marcos that it needed to be aerodynamic. He did as bidden.

Weather forecast for Victoria Dock on Saturday: heavy showers with drier intervals, moderate wind. Oh.

Into the Central (not Head) Office of Fairbridge, just down Waterloo Road from Kevin Spacey's Old Vic (he is a fan, came to our annual IMAX extravaganza (click on the link and choose Film from the topish right) and made a great speech containing the impassioned words "so just write the f...ing cheque". Important matters of state to discuss with our hero, Andrew Purvis, and a team meeting with Laura and Mark to agree Tritactics, sign disclaimers (other people's) etc.

Then to David, who promises to make this an appropriate tapering session in view of the oncoming athletic challenge. He says he'll be gentle on the lower body, and that the abs, pecs, triceps etc won't hurt by Saturday. I do love David.

Sinful glass of wine with brother-in-law over fishy dinner in Loch Fyne, Cobham (eh? Cobham?). Couldn't resist it. Late to bed, tut tut.

A round £100 today, total to £12,163.33, fab.

Wednesday 29 July

2009-08-01T10:49:00.000-07:00

3 days to go before the race. They say you should taper in the last days, I think, which I interpret as meaning do very little indeed. I follow this advice assiduously, taking care to move extremely slowly at all times. Weather forecast for Saturday: heavy uninterrupted rain and strong winds. Ah.

Good to be home, and we celebrate with a family trip to the theatre: Tom Stoppard's Arcadia. Saw it when it came out in 1993, brilliant then and brilliant still. On the way we drop in under the Trafalgar Sq plinth, where one of the 2,400 who are to be famous (?) for an hour courtesy of A Gormley is doing her thing.

Inaudible to us, but there is a live 24 hour feed on the net, where she is no doubt clear as glass. I apply to go on the plinth too, thinking it could be an opportunity to tell the world (far too little of which is aware of us) about Fairbridge.

Antony Gormley's plinth: fame for an hour

£10 today, many thanks to the lovely donor. Total creeps up to £12,063.33.

Tuesday 28 July

2009-07-30T11:23:00.001-07:00

Staircase mural

Guess where I went today? To the former jute mill (Dundee a city built on jute, jam and journalism) now occupied by Fairbridge. Great visit, great team, working in a city with its own particular problems (highest rate of teenage pregnancy in Europe, unusually high rates of illiteracyand alcoholism, to name three).

Courses are tailored to the issues, as you'd expect. For example we have bleeping babies, frighteningly realistic dolls, which perform all bodily functions, wake up in the night screaming etc. The young people (sometimes boys as well as girls) take them home for the night, and when they come back the babies are cleverly debriefed by download, all details of what happened and how they were cared for revealed. Most of the people on the course develop a bond for their baby, but also conclude that they won't have one quite yet...

The centre is large and beautifully equipped, as you can see from these photos:

IT suite, Dundee centre

Kitchen (with 5 workstations) and camera-shy Alice

Reluctantly dragged myself away from the Fairbridge team, taken by wonderful Alice, the manager, to the amazingly convenient airport for a flight in a delightful little plane to London City (Air France, can someone explain?) and home.

£50 zinging into the kitty from Japan, total to £12,053.33, brilliant.

Monday 27 July

2009-07-28T04:35:00.000-07:00

Michelle and Francis, long-suffering as they are, get up early to make sure I am really leaving. I sign their visitors' book trying not to notice that the last person to sign was...... me.

The streets of Edinburgh are all being dug up simultaneously for the (re-)installation of trams, gas mains, cables, sewers and for the general amusement of people who a) go by helicopter b) don't go anywhere and c) live in Glasgow. This meant getting up super-early to make sure I caught my train to that lovely city, visiting the Fairbridge centre there for the day.

Glasgow, as everyone knows, has big social challenges and the Fairbridge team there is doing an extremely impressive job in working with young people from some of the most challenging inner city environments in Europe. It's tough, but they are brilliantly organised, hard working, clearly love it and their positivity is infectious to the young people, me, anyone who goes near the place. Give us the cash and we could do twice as much in the city, or more, and have plans to.

The manager of the Glasgow team, Scott, is a serious runner and has done lots of academic stuff relating to sport, optimising performance etc. We exchange tips, or rather he gives me some. The best a model of heart rate monitor that records everything and then analyses it from every angle with graphs, recommendations for next training session, etc etc. Man after my own heart. His next challenge the New York marathon in November. Good luck Scott.

Back to the station for a train to Dundee. Beautiful journey, although most of the time on the pesky laptop doing important things. Arrive, sun shining, and go for a run in the park nearby by the Tay (taking Scott's advice, some punishing sprints for the fast-twitch fibres which can still be trained with 5 days to go, interspersed with more gentle stuff). What a setting for a city.

Magdalen Park, Dundee, with the Tay behind

Magic moment: £150, taking the total to £12,003.33

We've made it, and I have a feeling there's a bit more to come. Don't do a dance, haven't had any lessons since the last time, but sing a little song of joy. Decide I need singing lessons too.

Sunday 26 July

2009-07-28T03:59:00.000-07:00

Essay crisis: have promised to write the first draft of the chairman's piece for the annual review by the end of the weekend. It has been going around in my head, but I haven't actually put any words down. Yesterday I got up really early (er, quite early) and warmed up the laptop, settling ino the task. Rearranged the desk a few times. Made a cup of tea. Answered a few emails. Wrote the blog, it had got seriously behind, etc.

Today was different, thanks largely to Michelle who provided helpful encouragement ("my sympathy is fast disappearing" "just get on with it" "you'll just have to do it another time"). By the end of the morning it was done. Pinged it off to my Fairbridge editors, but not before a lesson in tropes (incl. the synecdoche) and enclitics (?!) from Michelle, Francis and their brainy friends Roxy and Urban. Ask them (orWiki), I'm not even going to start.

After that badly needed some fresh air. So we went to Arthur's Seat, or nearby, and walked above Edinburgh admiring the city, Holyrood, the bargain-built Scottish Parliament, a huge gathering of the clans complete with kilts, rugs, knees, swaying figures, cable-tossing etc.

Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat

£50 today from someone I haven't seen for years, wow thanks. Total now £11,853.33. Creeping towards the target...

Saturday 25 July

2009-07-26T09:15:00.000-07:00

Went to a sculture park today, highly recommended, with the long-suffering friends (they do have names: Michelle and Francis). Jupiter Artland, not far from the centre of Edinburgh. Outdoor sculpture by leading artists in a beautiful setting. Here's an Antony Gormley against the summer sky:

Antony Gormley: Firmament

And here are the long-suffering friends:

Michelle and Francis, with Gormley shadow

Abbreviation glossary, as promised yesterday:

qv = quod vide = look there/at that
ie = id est = that is
eg = exempli gratia = for example
et al = et alia = and others (people in a list)
cf = confer, in its meaning of compare, consult

£50 today, total to £11,803.33.

Friday 24 July

2009-07-25T02:05:00.000-07:00

Staying with long-suffering friends in Edinburgh, get up early and creep about, then for a run through the Georgian magnificence of this city until I find the banks of the Leith and run along those.

Fairbridge pays me generously in all sorts of ways, giving me far more than I give it, and I love it, but it doesn't pay the bills. They are sorted by Graphite (qv, incomparable private equity firm of unique culture and brilliance) and TMP (qv, incomparable recruitment marketing and services company of sparkling creativity and buzz).

TMP has offices in a number of the cities where Fairbridge has centres (Edinbugh, Manchester (Fairbridge 2 centres), Birmingham, Bristol, London (Fairbridge 2 centres). Fairbridge also in Dundee, Glasgow, Newcastle, Middlesbrough, Liverpool, Cardiff, Southampton, Chatham: total Fairbridge centres 15). TMP also in Leeds and Dublin, maybe Fairbridge will be too one day.

So today after an hour with the fundraising team of Fairbridge in Scotland and lunch with its Director, I drop in on TMP Edinburgh, where the customary delight of seeing our sparkling team is further enhanced by meeting a highly colourful and entertaining client.

That reminds me, for what does "qv" stand? Or the easier "ie"? Or for that matter "eg"? Or "et al"? Or that teaser "cf". I'll do some research and let you know tomorrow.

Today nothing added to the coffers. Not a bean, not a sausage, not a dicky bird (not that we want any of those, particularly the sausage). Will we make it to the revised target? Help. Total stays at £11,753.33.

Thursday 23 July

2009-07-25T00:48:00.000-07:00

A poetic distortion, in fact outright untruth, yesterday. Forgot that in the morning, before that long drive home with Lear etc, we had taken advantage of the exceptionally low tide to go to a favourite rugged and rock-strewn beach, uncovered only when the sea is out, to gather mussels, swim in the wild sea, rescue over-excited dogs from slippery rocks. Gives me an excuse to produce a final Cornish photograph:

The bleak beauty of Tregardock
(Tip: if you click on the photos they open
in a big window. This one worth it)

Put on a suit and caught the 8 o'clock from King's Cross to Edinburgh. Delightful journey. Train half full, 4 1/2 hours of reading, writing, some of it while listening to music (Elgar, Dream of Gerontius, do you know it? Magnificent).

And deep body relaxation. If you don't do this, try it. In 30 mins you get the equivalent of 2-3 hours' sleep, an energy boost, a mind-rebalance. A trance state, hypnotic, between sleep and full consciousness (nearest equivalents day-dreaming, prayer (I'm assured, must do more), meditation (ditto)). Easiest if facilitated, CDs available (eg Paul McKenna, Glenn Harrold, the incomparable Brian Roet). Amazon will get you there.

In Edinburgh for the meeting of the Council of Fairbridge in Scotland, where we have a sibling charity. A constructive, mutually-supportive, idea-exchanging harmony prevails between the Scottish and English organisations and we share the things it makes sense to share (eg our finance function, design and communications). The Council itself has eight highly impressive members, all patently infused with the Fairbridge magic.

The Magic of Fairbridge (7): training and development

This rare Anglo-Scottish harmony makes coming here a pleasure, enhanced this time by arriving early and finding that a refresher course on working with challenging behaviour is under way for the staff of the Edinburgh centre. I need this as much as anyone else (managing my own behaviour is quite a challenge in itself) so join in and learn a lot.

The course is led by one of our Training and Development Managers, the incomparable Mal: gentle, positive, wise, hugely experienced and with wicked lightning Geordie wit. Fairbridge believes deeply in realising the potential of young people, that's what we're here for, and also of its own people. We invest more in this than the great majority of companies. There are schemes to encourage and assist (in time and money) with gaining qualifications, and when people leave to do bigger jobs we are sad and celebrate simultaneously. They are taking that magic with them, and very often stay in touch.

A cool £140 today, creeping towards the revised target, £11,753.33

Wednesday 22 July

2009-07-24T03:14:00.000-07:00

No exercise today, unless you call sitting in a car gently flexing the right ankle on the accelerator pedal as the car cruised from Cornwall, or listening, when passengers (a surf-tired son and daughter) snoozing, stimulating conversation in pause mode, to King Lear, that work of tragi- comic genius so arresting, so multi-faceted, so brilliant that it even rivals the conversation of the said son and daughter. Must remember not to resign the cares of state and give them everything...

Cornwall review: exercise 6/10 (running, sand-shifting, surfing all OK. No yoga, not enough stretching other than Achilles). Abstinence 5/10 (no alcohol, two drags on a brother-in-law's fag, no caffeine, no meat other than when I forgot that lasagne has mince in it, but some sugar and snacking sins (chocolate, two biscuits, some crisps, many more nuts than needed purely for selenium)). Fun 10/10.

The wheel has come full circle...

A steady £300 today, thank you, total to £11,613.33 (still looking for that merciful, rounded donor who gives £1.67 or any multiple of £5 with £1.67 added...).

Tuesday 21July

2009-07-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

Cornwall (unlike Cheltenham) doesn't have the speediest broadband connection, or the zingiest mobile reception (why do you think Cheltenham has??). The daily blog edit would try the patience of a saint, so you can imagine how mine responded when I tried to use my dongle...

And then I discovered the surfer's hangout/church (with a difference: the altar area doubling as a skateboarders' half pipe)/delicious crepe-serving/cricket-showing internet café in Polzeath, without which this would have come to a grinding halt. So if you're ever in North Cornwall, don't miss Tubestation: it's the best.

Run to St Enodoc again, this time with an athletic son, rather quicker. We did stop off at the church to catch breath, admire Betjeman's headstone etc but it was still tough. Went floating in the sea afterwards to cool off. Achieved that quite quickly.

£100 today, total to £11,313.33.

Monday 20 July

2009-07-21T06:34:00.000-07:00

Did you read Alec's story yesterday? If not, go straight there (nothing about to be written here needs detain you). If you did, was there one of those wobbly feelings in your stomach, and perhaps a slight prickling behind the eyes? That's what it's all about, and it leads me to:

The Magic of Fairbridge (6): Where the money comes from

Donors, funders, commissioners of services: we have them all and more. The state in all its richness and colour, from the European Union, through central government, to local authorities to individual schools. Hundreds of them overall. Things are different between England, Scotland and Wales, with their respective national parliamments, assemblies, languages and laws. Things vary widely between local authorities in each country.

Other sources, equally rich and colourful: the National Lottery; charitable trusts and foundations; companies (which often give more than just cash, and which often (quite reasonably) seek a return in staff involvement, staff development, public relations); individuals both in life, and in their wills on their deaths.

This diversity is vital. It keeps us independent, flexible, gives us some security when one group or another is suffering or changes its priorities. Overall the state gives us about 45% of our income, but no one funder, state or private, accounts for more than 10%.

Some money comes with strings attached (spend it on this specifically or you can't have it. Report back to us in detail before we pay you). We have to be careful here not to be tempted to take money for things outside our central purpose: sometimes hard to resist when trying to make ends meet.

Fundraising is tough, even when there isn't a recession, and lack of funding is the main obstacle to growth. We need roughly £10 million a year, much of it raised from scratch each time. Donors who commit for a longer period (for example through annual standing orders) are particularly valuable, giving us some certainty of future income and making it possible to plan. By comparison with many charities we are fortunate in having relatively strong reserves to cover short term deficits, giving us time to adjust to sudden changes in circumstances.

What could we do if we had £20 million a year rather than £10? The subject of the next Magic...

Cornish update. We've had weather. Lots of it. Some of it quite absurd. Apollo has largely done a bunk to France or somewhere, while Hebe and her mate Notus have been having a great time. Luckily you can't tell the difference when you're surfing, and there's a lot more beach for grandiose schemes when the ice cream vans are back in the garage and wind breaks aren't really the point.

Today we took over about two acres of deserted strand and built Northern Italy, complete with Vesuvius, the Colosseum and a mini Venice, complete with canal network (flooded from a nearby stream) St Marks, the Rialto etc. The Lido looked rather bleak under the grey and open sky, as it can, and T Mann sprang to mind.

Confession: ate some chocolate, a couple of biscuits, otherwise committed minor dietary sins. No alcohol, nicotine, caffeine though. Training: been on one long run to St Enodoc (J Betjeman buried there, lovely headstone) and beyond. Kept an eye on Achilles, easily provoked. Mucked about with a body board in the waves. Shifted a lot of sand building Italy etc

Just as I was beginning to get worried you came flooding back: £385 today, thank you, total to £11,213.33.

Sunday 19 July

2009-07-20T00:55:00.000-07:00

Alec's story (2). He's 16. After yesterday's from the Evening Standard, here it is in his own words:

I got referred by my school as I was in trouble all the time - rude, aggressive and violent sometimes to the teachers. When they first said I had to go to Fairbridge I said "hell no, I won’t know anyone".

Fairbridge wasn’t like school though – we were active all the time and not kept in rooms. I was pretty shaky when I went first went on Access – but we did things like rock climbing, team building activities and different sports.

I started coming two days a week and my results at school began improving. I did loads of new stuff – conservation, museum visits, even dancing. ‘Can Cook, Will Cook’ was good – before I couldn’t cook for myself and now I can make a four-course meal! I also did ‘Smoke It, Know It’ – looking at drugs and the effect they can have on you. I used to smoke weed a lot and I realised I’m not untouchable and could get in serious trouble for drugs.

I don’t smoke weed at all anymore. It’s really hard as it’s everywhere. Before I could never be bothered to do anything but now I’m more active and see a future. Its difficult growing up round here. To go to college, to do well is seen as a negative thing. Where I live you have only one route – drugs and violence. The only other way is to isolate yourself or else you’ll go down.

I recently went on Spirit [more anon, Ed]. I was really angry at first but then I started seeing it as an opportunity to make some changes. You have to work as a team on that boat – if you don’t cooperate then it will sink, kind of like the decisions you make in life.

The main things I’ve been working on are my patience and communication skills. Before I came to Fairbridge I never used to talk properly – I used to swear all the time and saw everything as a big joke. Now I have a lot more respect for people. Things aren’t perfect and I can still be a bit fighty, but my patience has definitely improved.

At Fairbridge you get to meet people like you – especially the staff. I’ve had help to write my application and you can have a laugh while still learning stuff – there’s a lot of encouragement. I’ve recently started a part-time college course in Childcare. I’ve also been doing the Cadets and since being at Fairbridge my level of commitment has really gone up. I’ve even just got through the first round into the Marines.

If there was no Fairbridge to pick me up when I was at school prison would’ve been my future. I was playing with guns and knives, stealing cars, running from the police. Fairbridge is place for kids to go who are having problems on the street – you can evaluate your life away from all the negativity and you can make real positive changes.

Total for the day: Nothing, zero, zilch, nada, niente... Must try harder. Total stays at £10,828.33.

Saturday 18 July

2009-07-19T22:43:00.000-07:00

Let's start in the real world, then move to Cornish fantasy: have a look at Alec's story from the Standard earlier this year. You'll see he became a Fairbridge young person at our Hackney Centre (and we do need to move, as the article says, believe me) and things began to change from there.

Alec's story

No running today in Cornwall, but we did build a sandcastle. This is, of course, strictly for the younger members of the party: the adults would of course rather be reading Proust, writing learned treatises on the diet of the starfish, walking in poetic solitude along the Cornish coast, inspired by its "grisly feendly rockes blak, That semen rather a foul confusioún. Of werk, than any fayr creacioún" (even if that was Brittany, but surely the geology is similar?).

Nevertheless, the adults throw themselves at the task with enthusiasm, determined to defeat the pesky tide. Where Cnut failed, we can triumph. The castle is built like a boat, high prow, bows facing the waves that sweep, broken and exhausted, down the flanks.

From the water's edge to the walls of the castle itself, linked by lines in the sand (roads), a series of small towers is built to warn of the approaching tide. As they fall one by one, the diggers at the main castle are further encouraged. When the sea eventually reaches it, the youngest members of the party sit confidently inside, trusting the assurances of their selfless parents that all will be well...

From a training viewpoint, good for the abdominal muscles.

A solitary donor gave £50 today, thank you very much, total to £10,828.33

Friday 17 July

2009-07-18T01:09:00.001-07:00

Down in Cornwall, Notus, the wind god, is having a great time, liberally assisted from time to time by Hebe, goddess of rain. This made surfing interesting, but Apollo chucked out Hebe from early afternoon. After visiting a local potter, working in a massive former forge (Hephaestus' ?) near Bodmin (Chris Prindl, check him out. We bought a mug with a thumb dent rather than a handle, very cosy) it was time for the daily run.

Cornwall at evening, Apollo having relieved Hebe

Time for a secret about the 10k. Most of these races are a) somewhat hilly and b) crowded at the start. These things make it hard to run a good time. In the London Triathlon, held in the docks, the course is as flat as an armadillo's foot. And because the 10k is the last of the three events, the triathletes (or the monathletes in a relay such as mine with Laura and Mark) dribble every few seconds from the cycle to the run, with no crowd to jostle and elbow as the race begins.

This bodes well for me, but gives rise to a technical training question as Cornwall is a hilly place(any answers gratefully received, feel free to post a comment...). Is it a good idea to train on hills when you're running a flat race??

A tranquil £125 today, total to £10,778.33.

Thursday 16 July

2009-07-17T02:22:00.000-07:00

Have you seen the weather? It's gone a bit silly, or at least if you drove to Cornwall yesterday, as I did, that's the impression you would have got. Rain, strong gusty wind, cold as April. Nearly wiped out by a lorry as wide as the Cornish lane we shared, or at least I was in a sharing mood.

The weather not so good for Andy the fencer either, working as he is at the bottom of our garden in a baseball cap. At least his heavy duty radio is waterproof. He found that someone had put rock-hard concrete (a wall? a bomb shelter?) where he was excavating for foundations, causing him considerable inconvenience about which he has been remarkably sanguine.

Absent-mindedly ate a large number of Brazil nuts: apparently two or three a day very good for you, many people having a deficiency in selenium which is rather important for general well-being. But I ate a lot more than that, and of course nuts have more calories than you can shake a stick at... Went into the sea though for a buffety swim, will have sorted out a couple of them at least.

To quote Wikipedia on Selenium, for those who would like to take this one more stage, (are there any of those?): "Selenium is an essential micronutrient for animals. In humans, [it] functions as cofactor for reduction of antioxidant enzymes. Selenium also plays a role in the functioning of the thyroid gland. Dietary selenium comes from nuts, cereals, meat, fish, and eggs. Brazil nuts are the richest ordinary dietary source (though this is soil-dependent, since the Brazil nut does not require high levels of the element for its own needs). High levels are found in kidney, tuna, crab and lobster, in that order".

Quiet day after the excitements of the last few: £210, total to £10,653.33.

Wednesday 15 July

2009-07-16T02:43:00.000-07:00

Momentous day.

1) The prize draw (see July 8) supervised by a mathematical (and philosophical) son and using an Excel random number generator. Couldn't pick a better winner, well done Excel, who on being notified immediately chose to give his prize to Fairbridge. What a star.

2) we go through the original £10,000 target and can now fund three young people through the Fairbidge programme. After the celebration I decide (others I think got here some decades before me) that I need dancing lessons.

3) Also decide that my fierce blog control should be relaxed and people should be allowed to comment: it is after all a blog, and one or two people have claimed to be reading it.

Go for a conversational 8-9k on Wimbledon Common between summer showers with the same mathematical (and philosophical) son. We talk. Heart rate max 143, av 130, very mature.

Raised in day, a massive £998.33, wow, thanks. First time someone has made me laugh with the amount of their donation (£133.33, thanks Stephen). Have to put 2 decimal places in all my spreadsheets etc. Earnestly hope someone will give £1.67, or £6.67, or £501.67... Total now £10,443.33.

Tuesday 14 July

2009-07-15T03:12:00.000-07:00

Tricky decision today: change the rules. I said I'd run a metre for every £1 you gave and walk the rest of the 10k. You have all been so generous that we're almost certain to get over £10,000. There'll be no walking at all, and what am I to do about the amount you give over £10k? So I raise the target to £12k and promise to run whatever distance you pay me to.

That reminds me, do you know the meaning of the word decimate? Not many people do. It means to kill one in ten. Comes from the habit of encouraging a Roman army to perform better, the general ordering a decimation after a defeat. Nice.

Test out the Gez tips, engaging upper body and gluteal muscles in a fast 6k along the Thames. This has such a remarkable result I think I must have got the distance wrong.

Another good day: £830, total £9,445. You stars.

Monday 13 July

2009-07-15T02:03:00.000-07:00

The Magic of Fairbridge (5): the young people

Picture an infant (could have been you) born into a tough inner city environment. Surrounded by poverty, broken and chaotic homes, unemployment (in some places for 3 generations, some estates where almost no one has a job), poor schools, drugs, alcohol, gangs, violence... The infant grows up and, unsurprisingly, the environment bestows unwelcome gifts on the young adult: a cocktail chosen from a toxic menu of exclusion from school, homelessness, anti-social behaviour, crime, mental health problems, substance misuse, family breakdown and others.

The young people who come to Fairbridge are amazing. They typically face three or more of these issues and have lived in an environment offering the bleakest existence and future. You might reasonably expect them to give in to a life in which their full potential is not even explored, let alone realised.

But they don't give up. Instead they take the brave choice of going somewhere that helps and challenges them to take control of their lives and make something of them. Most young people who come to Fairbridge do so entirely voluntarily, and all of them are free to leave at any time. The great majority don't, with around 80% completing the Access course (see entry for Wedesday 1 July).

Access course: would this young person

have made it?

Today I had a running lesson. You might say this was a bit late after 49 years and with 19 days to go before the race, and of course it was. In my gym, with Gez who comes from Cardiff and did a year's course there learning about biomechanics and other useful things. He can also run a mile in 3m59s (!!!) so he knows what he's talking about. He makes me do all sorts of strange things (including a bit of running) videoing and note-taking all the while. The conclusion: there is room for improvement (there's a surprise) particularly in the use of the enormous muscles of my posterior and of my upper body (ah, that again).

The session was arranged in an act of the noblest self sacrifice by David (qv, 6 July). Here he is:

David and his trainee

Solid day, with donors piling in £850, thank you all, total now £8,615

Sunday 12 July

2009-07-13T01:07:00.000-07:00

Day off today, no running at all, day of rest, Sabbath, etc. Decide to go for a gruelling early morning cycle ride instead. Cardio test, over about the same time as the 10k. Heart rate targets: 165 average, 160 downhill, 170 uphill. Set off at 7.20, doing a hilly circuit near East Hindon. Result: 163 average, 175 max. 17.3km, av speed 24kph, 43m 9s, don't see a single car all the way round. What were they all doing on Sat night??

Day off

Some donors seem to be having a day off too, can't blame them, but a few doughty souls come in with £215, thanks v much, total to £7,765.

Saturday 11 July

2009-07-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

Up early to send a wadge of emails to potential donors. A bit like fishing in a murky lake with every sort of lure. Will it be a tiny roach or a huge carp on the line? First fish landed just before 7, elegant phrases on its lips, taking bait laid two days ago in Yorkshire. A poetess. Then another at a substantial 105 pounds, with a sense of order, man after my own heart, tidying up the running total to exactly £7,100. A polymath and conservationist. Next comes a big fish, 250 pounder, extremely welcome. A countryman and risk-taker.

21 days to go. Weigh in, bodyfat steady at 17.5%. Go on a 10k at gentle pace, to contrast with yesterday's 5k burn and to test whether Achilles is still skulking in his tent or has ideas of putting those shapely ankles at risk.

Interrupted at start by a large flock of sheep being driven towards me. Join the farmer leading at the front with deranged dog. He is also a generous donor and suggests some interesting analysis of donations. Man after my own heart.

One or two of the lambs, otherwise healthy enough, look very depressed, and go into huddles in corners. Much discussion with the farmer and two shepherds. The conclusion, diagnosed from the lassitude and a certain blueness in the eyes (don't ours go yellow?) is that it is liverfluke. Common enough in the watery valleys, but rare here in the uplands.

Author holding deranged dog and dwarfed by shepherd

The run winds up to a beautiful roman road with distant views in both directons. Heart rate kept below 150, average 144 (expect to average 165, max around 173, in the race). 54m 36s, fine. Achilles scarcely stirring. Training distance passes 150k.

To the East Hindon flower show, entries in many categories of flower, fruit, vegetable, cake, preserve, photography.... Serious business.

East Hindon Flower Show

Catch for day: £465, takes total to £7,550.

Friday 10 July

2009-07-10T22:08:00.000-07:00

Is there anyone out there? Am I sculpting this diary purely for my own narcissistic satisfaction (perhaps you'd better not answer that)? For some days I've been looking with increasing anxiety at a (compulsory) feature of this blog page, lower right, which says FOLLOWERS. And below that it says:

There are no followers yet.

Be the first!

I consider becoming the first follower myself, but feel that somehow lacks taste and integrity. But is there anyone out there? Shall I direct my energies elsewhere (go on that First Aid course I've been thinking about for 35 years or so, take up rollerblading (again), or brass-rubbing, or falconry)?

Still, perhaps it's good for me even if there is no one there. It makes me think about the magic, for example,

The Magic of Fairbridge (2, 3 and 4)

The staff, the staff and the staff, all 300 of them. They are amazing. They are also extraordinarily diverse. We have huge brains from the great universities (Oxford, Cambridge and Hull). We have climbers, kayak experts, chefs, artists, computer wizards, jugglers, jokers, footballers, teachers. Old people, and mostly young. Women and men in roughly equal balance. Piercings, pearls, mohikans, partings, tatoos, brooches, brogues, sandals, jeans, chinos, t-shirts, suits. A spectrum of skin colour and an orchestra of accent. Some came to Fairbridge as young people, and graduated to full-time staff members. That gives a particularly warm feeling, and it's pretty warm around here.

The staff give Fairbridge its unstuffy, uninstitutional, unjudgmental feel the moment you walk through the door. It is often not possible to tell the staff apart from the young people at the start. This is not another state institution, uniform, regimented, clipboarded; form-ridden, faceless and unfriendly.

And so to my day, rather reluctantly as I have a confession. Good things I did: stick to the diet, go on a 5k at race pace that felt really good. Bad thing I did: roll myself an exquisitely delicious cigarette. Just one, in East Hindon, sitting on a bench in the late evening dark with scents of summer flowers, no sound but for the occasional rustling of nocturnal creatures, the shimmer of a big moon behind thin cloud.

Celebration! (with chins)

(I was dancing, apparently a la mode de Bean, but fortunately this
is not a video)

Thank you donors, a solid £510 today, total to £7,085. This is enough to fund two young people through Fairbridge. I do a little dance, not in any way like Mr Bean...

Thursday 9 July

2009-07-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Becoming very concerned about my diet. Woke up feeling extremely well, and continued to feel that way for some time afterwards. Also sleeping less but more energy. These are worrying symptoms as they can only be attributed to the diet. It is supposed to be temporary, a return to normal service on 1 August after the 10k. Arrgghh.

To the gym again where David works his genius. He comes from Majorca and somehow manages to get me to do hard things for a long time, and even makes it fun despite the pain. Something in the air there perhaps. Been to Majorca? Wonderful butterflies.

My early morning bus to the office

Good day, aftershocks of the emailing yesterday still reverberating: £590, total £6,575.

Wednesday 8 July

2009-07-09T12:23:00.000-07:00

Fairbridge has a magic to it, but it is not accidental. It is the result of long experience, trial and error, lots of thinking.

The Magic of Fairbridge (1): Group Sizes

Fairbridge has 15 centres in cities around the UK and a central (note not "head") office in London in their support. The centres have between about 12 and about 18 staff. First point: humans in groups can know up to about 20 members extremely well, and will know a lot about each member (qv extended families, Partnership Act 1890 (limit of 20 partners), army squadrons). This bonds them and makes them effective in tough environments.

Second point: up to a group size of about 150, humans can know the name of everyone and something about them all. There is a sense of belonging. At any one time, there are typically between 100-150 young people attached to a Fairbridge centre.

In a hostile world, this is a powerful organisational structure both for the staff, who have a strong sense of common endeavour, and for the young people, soon recognised and greeted by name whoever they bump into on coming to a centre, by contrast with the reception they may get elsewhere.

No Fairbridge centre in the small market town of Northallerton, N Yorkshire, but today I catch a train there. Not one of your packed-in airline-seated trains, but a Grand Central. One of the original 125s, everyone has a table and a view, huge amounts of leg room, comfortable seats. If you're going to York, or Sunderland, or indeed Northallerton you must try one.

On the train I meet Cyril, and we fall to talking. He trains building apprentices in a large multinational, clearly getting great satisfaction from their progress, sometimes from near-apathy, to full competence and enthusiasm. We talk about Fairbridge, exchange cards, think there could be a link: some of our young people graduating to his apprenticeships. Cyril's wife also works in an organisation with activities that overlap with Fairbridge: he'll put us in touch.

Fund raising momentum seemed to be slowing a little, so I send a broadcast email offering a prize of the winner's choice, to be drawn from a hat of all the donors who contribute by next Tuesday (naturally). This has a remarkably galvanising effect with a total of £1,643 pouring in, including the largest donation yet of £750, many thanks indeed, you know who you are. This take the total to £5,985. Creeping towards the two young person mark...

Tuesday 7 July

2009-07-08T01:25:00.000-07:00

Was planning a big run today, going for race pace over at least 5k, heart rate wound up to an average 165, some murderous hills etc etc. Just ready when the heavens opened, nothing for it but to change the plan to some yoga. Curses.

The yoga is to a CD, the instructions for getting into unusual positions murmured seductively in an Italian (?) accent by Faustamaria, an appropriately ancient and ascetic-looking guru figure in his picture on the cover. At the end he does five minutes of relaxation, taking you gradually and deliciously from toes to head. I have left plenty of time for shower, change, half hour drive etc before dinner with a punctual and extremely busy headmistress. An hour later, with ten mins to go, I wake up....

Good day: £525, with a chunky £250 and a £200 amongst them, thanks to you all. Total moves on to £4,342.

Monday 6 July

2009-07-07T09:16:00.000-07:00

Fairbridge could do a whole lot more if it had the money. The question of how many young people there are in our client group is a slippery one, but depending on where you draw the line it is somewhere between 250,000 and 1m. Our 4,000 per annum is good, but it could be better. We could increase that to 10,000 without compromising the magic by becoming too big.

On top of that we do two things of indirect benefit to the rest. We have a fast-growing training organisation to train the trainers in other places, teaching them the things we've learnt in honing our programme over the last 25 years or so. And we work on the policy makers and purse string holders to persuade them to adopt a Fairbridge-like approach to engaging young people when they are deciding where to spend the state's billions. To put those billions into context, the £10m annual budget of Fairbridge is equivalent to one medium-sized secondary school.

To the gym again today, this time with my regular David, but no less painful. He is too tactful to echo a predecessor who said that I had, in his exact words, "no perceptible upper body strength" but he's clearly thinking it. Nipped around London on the tube, dodging the showers.

Better day today: £260, total now £3,817.

Sunday 5 July

2009-07-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

Day of rest, but not for the fundraiser. Buzzed around East Hindon distributing my Fairbridge business card, artfully amended with the link to JustGiving. Went to the Nags Head, ordered a Henry and a packet of crisps (do you know what a Henry is? Quite a lot of people do, including landlords). Felt guilty after eating the crisps, so added snacks to the list of banned foods and then threw in any food containing sugar for good measure. Soon won't be much I can eat, but I suppose that's the idea really. Found I had no money, so gave the landlord a card instead, with the addition of an IOU all for him. He was very good about it. Not sure he'll be pouring donations into the Fairbridge coffers though..

(Hint: didn't feel guilty about the Henry. Another hint: in fact it wasn't a Henry because it had water rather than lemonade in it)

Got on a bike for a change, beautiful summer evening, sun angling through the rain-washed air, mist hanging around the larger trees.

£100 in today, taking the total to £3,557. Pace of donation seems to have slackened a bit, but lots of cards out there.

Saturday 4 July

2009-07-05T09:24:00.000-07:00

Find myself in the country and after the weekly weigh in (bodyfat down a startling 1.5% to 17.5%, diet must be working) set off for an early morning run from East Hindon. Misty, mysterious, tranquil, the air clean and the roads empty. Have to stop my watch a number of times as I bump into people I know, pressing business cards on them with the link to JustGiving whenever decent, and sometimes when not.

Have a delightful breakfast at the half way point (6.6k) with Bob and Mary, who have four children peppered around my age and a symmetrical eight grandchildren. Bob is the son of a miner, emigrated from the North East when a nipper but still has that wonderful accent. He has the miner's build: chest measurement contending with height, immensely strong. Eyes of pure blue, gentle so that other people's well-trained dogs instinctively take up at his side.

Bob and the author in another season

On the way back there is much activity at the village hall: it is judgement day in the annual potato competition. The rules are strict and detailed to ensure that contestants start on a level playing field in raising the maximum (number, weight of largest, total weight) from a single container-reared seed potato. I spot one or two proto-obsessives mingling obtrusively in the crowd, carefully sipping their Nescafé and seeking information that might advantage them in future years.

Standing some way apart from the shorts and T-shirts that predominate is an impeccably dressed war veteran, whether in distaste at their attire or bearing a mild disposition it is impossible to tell. I can't resist a discussion and approach. Des Lawson, for it turns out it is he, will be 88 on 24 August. He drove transports in WWII going all the way from Naples to Fréjus at the foot of the Alps. We speak our rusty Italian, his learnt on battlefields and mine in restaurants. The generation gap you might call it, lucky us.

War veteran and runner at potato competition

The total creeps up by £100 to £3,457, none of the morning's cards having yet borne fruit but I'm hopeful.

Friday 3 July

2009-07-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

Great excitement today as we pass the one young person stage with the total rising to £3,357. This event needs to be marked in some way. Comments have been passed on the photo at the top of the JustGiving page in the black panama, not all of them positive. Livvy and I agree that a trawl of the Graphite archive might yield something. I was hoping for something with gravitas and chairmanly poise, but apparently there isn't anything like that. The best she can do is a shot from the Christmas party at which we were all given things to wear to improve our appearance...

Wednesday 1 July and Thursday 2 July

2009-07-05T07:54:00.000-07:00

When young people arrive at Fairbridge, the first thing they do is go on an Access course of about six days. In 2006 I went on one of these as a young person in our Solent centre, a humbling, unforgettable, and at many points very funny experience.

My companions were varied in every possible way with one thing in common: they'd all had extremely difficult lives. Despite my age, accent, clothes and ludicrous naivety, they accepted me without judgement (do you do that, or do you pigeonhole busily as I do when you meet someone new?). Towards the end one of them, Paul, said, I like to think affectionately:
"You know who you remind me of Will?"
Me: "No Paul, tell me"
Paul: "Hugh Grant".

Perhaps the resemblance more auditory (or kinesthetic?) than visual?

Every story was harrowing, making me wonder whether I'd have survived it let alone have the courage to go on a Fairbridge course. One, let's say Meg's, was of unemployment, self-harm (which was medicated) extremely low confidence and intervals of total withdrawal. A year or so later I was in the Solent centre and there was Meg. She greeted me with a huge smile of recognition and surprise, and told me that thanks to Fairbridge she was now training to be a sailing instructor.

Back at the office the day is cruising along reasonably uneventfully, dozing in a couple of meetings and sticking to the red bush etc when I suddenly see a gym appointment in my diary. This is a concern, as I normally remember to cancel them before they can do any harm, financially or physically. I go in early and keep a high profile, having to run like a cartoon character on a treadmill that measures speed in mph rather than kph (thinking, as the legs whirred like Billy-the-Whizz, "I knew I was unfit, but surely I can easily go at 10kph more or less indefinitely..").

My torturer today is Rob, who did something so enormous it makes my 10k look like a peanut next to an oak tree. He swam 24 miles one day, and then on each of the following 10 days he ran a marathon, going from London to Cardiff to Edinbugh and back, and then he got on his bike.... Naturally this makes his sympathy for my groans and protestations rather limited. He says I might not feel it today (what??) but I probably will tomorrow. Thanks Rob. In fact, of course, he's a total sweetie.

Largest donation yet, £500 offline, brilliant, later matched by Andy Gray and by another very generous offline donor. Graphite comes in with a rash of donations, I do love them all. Training distance passes 100k (thanks to that treadmill) cycling at 91k. Total raised in day £2,267 (!!). Total raised to date £2,687.

Thursday 2 July

Marcus Lyon:
Le Causse
de Mejean

Rob's prediction proved painfully accurate, my initial morning progress from bed to shave like that of a crab after recent unbalancing amputations. Generally my body works reasonably well as I am careful to protect it from serious demands, but I do share a weakness with Achilles (although unfortunately I have rather more than he). Sore tendons can be troublesome and even put me off the road and onto the sofa.

This is where the heaviest book I own comes in: 'The Lore of Running' by Tim Noakes. Can't recommend it highly enough. A full 930 pages of the sort of obsessionary heights only achieved by the very few (my friend James Greenbury, me, one or two others). You know you're in contention when you record a lot each day: eg hours of sleep, unit consumption of caffeine and alcohol, yoga sessions, relaxation sessions, training sessions (with average and maximum heart rate, distance, time, av speed, calories etc). Tim Noakes manages a dense and excellent 8 pages on Achilles Tendonosis alone. When I follow his rubric all is well, but there is a tendency to lapse which ultimately I blame on Eve, or perhaps the serpent.

Hobbling to the train, I aim for a studio in Kennington, near one of our centres, to have my photo taken with Andrew Purvis, the Fairbridge Chief Exec and renowned megastar. Fairbridge has a very high standard in publicity materials generally, with the annual review particularly strong. Our photographer is the amazing Marcus Lyon (look him up, will bowl you over). First time I've enjoyed having my photo taken for a report, although I do notice a slight protruberance above the belt and ask him if his camera's OK, or if there really is something there. Sagely, he doesn't answer. Resolve to give up nuts, butter, cheese, chocolate, biscuits and meat for the remainder of July.

Jeremy Gough joins the £500 club (are we to have a £750 club, or even...) and the total rises to £3,187. This is exciting as the full £10,000 will fund about three young people through Fairbridge and we're in sight of our first.

Introduction

2009-07-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

DIARY OF A NOVICE
(or the daily notes of a virgin fundraiser)

Background

Important objective: To raise £10k for Fairbridge (amazing charity, qv) as one of a triathlon team with Laura swimming 1500m, Mark cycling 40km and me running 10km (Laura and Mark work full time for Fairbridge and I work there too a little). Commit to run 1 metre for every £1 given, and then walk the rest of the way.

Silly objective: To beat my current record for the 10k of just under 45 minutes. Clearly can't afford to walk if this is to be achieved.

Starting statistics

Age: just 49 (only just, and I'm cool about being old. The older the better I always say)

Height: quite small really

Chins: three

Bodyfat (according to my suspiciously kind scales): 19%

Relevant qualifications: Willingness to run for Fairbridge when they couldn't find anyone else, and it is entertaining to see the chairman attempt it with chins wobbling etc. Needless to say, I am old enough to be the father of both Laura and Mark. They've been surprisingly positive, kind and encouraging, but then they do work for Fairbridge.

Relevant Experience (i.e. experience of extracting money from people for doing something you were probably going to do anyway): None

Important author's note: all the people in this diary are intended to bear a strong resemblance to real people, all of whom I earnestly hope are still alive for they certainly were very recently. For my amusement I have changed the names of some and left others entirely as in their passports. There might be a place called East Hindon, but if so I've never been there.

Monday 29 June

Have a lot of fun messing about with the JustGiving website, setting up my page etc. As I'm nearly 50 of course I haven't got a clue how to do this and not for the first time wish I was twelve or five again. It seems peculiarly difficult to communicate with the machine on the simple matter of the target: if you don't put in the pence as well as the pounds it claims you haven't done anything at all and must start again like a naughty boy. The contemporary equivalent of writing lines I suppose. Of course if I were five or twelve I'd know this as a matter of instinct. Anyone older is in trouble.

Spend quite a long time in inconsequential and artistic musings on the question of whether JustGiving gives good value to donors, with its 5% fee. Decide it probably does because of all the Gift Aid that would otherwise not be reclaimed and because it is really quite user-friendly even for 50 year olds.

Wonder about a photograph, and whether it is likely to increase my chances of raising any money. Choose one with me in grinning in a black panama.

First donation in, £200 from Neil McCann, offline. Someone told me that the size of your first donation sets the tone and Neil is kind. I can run 200m now. Thank you Neil. Good first day.

Tuesday 30 June

Fairbridge has been the sponsored charity for the Nike 10k London run the last couple of times, with some of our young people making up most of our team and a few hangers-on like me. In 2006 it was in Hyde Park, with Seb Coe, Paula Radcliffe and Duncan Goodhew to launch it. The Fairbridge team was introduced to them, very exciting and time for a chat, then put right at the front of the pack. There's quite a lot of smoking at Fairbridge, by both young people and staff, and a number of our athletes extinguished their cigarettes just before the gun...

First online donation, thanks v much indeed Harriet. I wonder how long it takes you to earn that serving strawberries to undeserving business people like me at Wimbledon? Rather longer than I plan to take in running the 10k I suspect. Later in the day a generous "Anonymous" comes in with another £200, wonderful. Having been shocked at the effect on my heart rate (+15/20 beats per minute) when I went on a run 40 mins after a cigarette (admittedly rolled fat by me with no namby filter or anything) resolve to give up nicotine for July and throw in alcohol and caffeine for good measure.

Total raised in day £220. Total raised so far: £420, momentum gathering