Meeting the men in whose footsteps I will follow brought home the magnitude of my challenge: without exaggeration, the Arch to Arc could kill me.
But an even greater fear grips me. The fear of failure.
There is a very real possibility that I will not make it to France. Being a Maths teacher I like to quantify
things, and I would rate my chances as 50%.
Optimistically. Should I fall
short, the list of people I let down will make difficult reading: myself, my friends,
my family and my pupils, not to mention the charities for whom I have pledged
to raise money. I’m not sure I could
bear it.
To ensure this does not – can not – happen, my training needs
to step up a notch. And as difficult as
it has already been, it is only going to get harder. So hard, in fact, that on those cold, dark,
wet mornings, fear alone – pitiless motivator as it is – may not be enough.
So each week, I will be posting my training totals in this
blog, visible for the world to see. Any session
missed or curtailed will no longer be accompanied simply by a fleeting feeling
of guilt but an accountability that I hope will be enough to force me out of
the door and into the cold.
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