Just before Christmas 2020 the Cadets of the Army Cadet Force (ACF) were set a challenge. We were to be Walking Home for Christmas!
During lockdown it has been tough to undertake exercise and keep fit. Various challenges have been set for the Cadets; for example they were challenged to cycle 300 miles in the month of August. Now in conjunction with the Walking with the Wounded Charity they were asked to “Walk Home for Christmas” . Cadets (and adults) were asked to walk 24 miles in 24 days from the 1st of December and get sponsored to do so.
To encourage the Cadets and because I’m a keen walker, I planned to do the lot (and some) in one go. Looking at the map there was a nice scenic route from our HQ in Preston, out to and along the coast, all the way to my home. About 26.3 miles and a variety of scenery.
After a few training walks with Bailey (our dog) of around 8 miles I was confident that the walk itself would be ok. The weather leading up to the planned date was awful and I’d resigned myself to getting cold and wet but as they say, no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing so the waterproofs were packed and expectations set.
The good news was that people had been amazingly kind and got in touch to sponsor me and offer words of encouragement. The week before I had listened to one of our amazing ACF Ambassadors give a talk to the Cadets on the various marathon’s she’d run all over the globe. Something she said hit home and was filed away in case needed. Sally said that when she was in pain and suffering during her marathons she’d just remember the men and women of the services that had lost limbs and would be happy to be able to swap places with her. “When it get’s tough, just keep going” was the point made. I thought it might come in handy.
The morning of the walk itself was gorgeous. Chilly, crisp but sunny and calm. If that could hold it would be a lovely walk.
My ever suffering wife, Wendy, dropped me at Fulwood HQ 07:30 ready for the stroll home. We’d meet up later for lunch but off I set only to be surprised after a mere 200m. A quick visit from good friend and fellow ACF member Phil Baines. He’d popped by to wish me good luck at this ungodly hour and here I was, barely awake and still sorting out my kit but the thoughts and wishes were massively appreciated.
The walk out of Preston was lovely, frost on the ground and virtually no one around it was peaceful and just nice. Five miles in and the first mental checkpoint, turning off the road to Blackpool and taking the road out to Lytham to pick up the coast. Here was going to be the only muddy part of the walk as I walked along the dual carriage way to get to Freckleton.
Walking along the fields and away from any urban areas was lovely, there wasn’t much traffic, the sun was up starting to thaw everything out, alone with my thoughts and plans I was honestly having a ball.
I was making good pace. I hit Freckleton, from there it was going to be pavement all the way home and made the halfway point in Lytham after about three and half hours. It was not long after leaving Lytham that the weather turned, The rain came from nowhere and was cold. Around the same time I began to be conscious of my feet and they started questioning what exactly were my plans for the rest of the day! They weren’t in any pain at this point but tired. It was a warning so I popped off to the side of the road and changed socks etc before cracking on.
Once I made St Annes I was approximately ten or eleven miles from home. I’d been on the go for about four and half hours and I had the tell tale signs of some pressure blisters on the balls of my feet. It wasn’t the boots rubbing, they were well worn in, but I guess several 8 mile training walks were just not enough to get the feet hardened up to a 26 mile walk on concrete and pavements.
By now I’d been posting progress updates on Social media and the words of encouragement and continued donations were a really fillip. It wasn’t so much the feet hurting that was the problem, they weren’t that bad. But I knew they weren’t going to get any better, only worse and I still had ten miles to go.
At the Sand Dunes just before hitting Blackpool I met Wendy and had a deserved break and lunch. It was really nice to see a smiling face and have a chat and the knowledge that there was now only single figures left in miles, along with words of encouragement meant it was time to get going again.
The weather was very typically indecisive. Rainy, windy, sunny, calm usually all within a 30 minute spell. Passing the Pleasure beach I was now sure I had large blisters on the balls of my feet and due to not walking properly my left knee was definitely feeling it’s full 47 years.
The worry with the knee was I was certain what the injury was. I’d torn the meniscus in my right knee playing football and had it operated on a few years previously. This was identical but the other knee. It was now, heading towards the Tower along Blackpool prom, in rain and wind, with worries about the long term effects of my knee injury that I drew upon several sources of encouragement.
The aforementioned thoughts from Sally Orange and the stupidity of worrying about a relatively minor ligament tear to my knee. At least I had a knee there to be injured! I also drew on words of encouragement from our Padre, Padre Rogers, from a conversation the night before. I am by no means a religious person but the mere fact that I knew I was in his thoughts and prayers meant a lot and after a brief but stern conversation with myself it was time to go to a happy place mentally and push on.
Enough self pity. I started looking around. Blackpool was quiet, not many out on the prom and I guess that was a combination of a global pandemic and the fact it really wasn’t that nice out anymore with the wind and the rain. The Comedy carpet was passed, so was North Pier and it was time to break the last six miles or so down in to smaller targets. A journey of 1000 miles starts with one step and so on.
The donations and encouragement from Social Media kept on coming and I had broken the £250 barrier. Walking Home for Christmas is a great cause and the people donating were helping make a difference. With that as a crutch to help, what was another 5 miles!
My happy place mentally was with my family, all getting to spend some time together, and with the little day dream in my head it was one foot in front of the other and crack on.
The walk from Blackpool up past Bispham and through Cleveleys is possibly not the most scenic, but there again it’s a route I’ve done literally hundreds of times so I suspect suffers from overfamiliarity. Leaving the Sea front and heading in land was my last mental checkpoint. A single mile inland to go and I’d be home.
The family came out to meet me, with our dog, Bailey, and once I’d gone that last little bit, the relief at finishing was immense. A total time of 8:07hrs moving time and around eight and three quarter hours since I set off, I’d finished.
I have so many people to thank. Everyone who donated to Walking Home for Christmas will have made a difference. I ended up raising a total of £265.71 and the Army Cadets UK as a whole raised £62,272.63.
To everyone who took the trouble to message encouragement on Social Media, thank you. It did make a difference and helped massively and finally to Wendy and my family. I owe thanks for putting up with me for the few days afterwards when I needed to put my feet up. The blisters healed in a week or so and the knee will have to wait for the pandemic to blow over before I get the scan and treatment needed but all in all a trifling inconvenience compared to what a large number of our ex-service men and women go through.
I have a new found admiration for our Nijmegen team who do 25 miles a day for four consecutive days on a competitive march and it’s time to look to the next challenge. I definitely want to go bigger and better next time…. but perhaps I’ll prepare for it properly this time!
