ic(E)lation

Sorrow, Strength and Stoicism

2010-01-30T04:24:00.004+00:00

I've been a week back from Arctic survival training in Norway (a week that I have begun to affectionately call hell week) and I think I'm finally able to start talking about it. I was always able to talk about it, but what I actually mean is to talk about it rationally and dispassionately. I'll post about the nitty gritty soon, but peversely for me, I want to talk feelings.

I spent a great deal of hell week in tears and because of that I berated myself constantly with thoughts of weakness and inadequacy. I cried tears of frustration as I struggled with every damn task I was given, tears of pain when physically injured (and that was a daily occurrence), tears of fear, fatigue and insecurity. Hell I even threw in a few snivels of self pity, I'm ashamed to say, which I quickly quashed. I wasn't in a great head space before I left for Norway, but by the end of the week I was thoroughly demoralised and beaten, and I've been shamed ever since at my lack of fortitude. Particularly in contrast to the ever tough and imperturbable ex-military instructors we had training us and who I hero worshiped. (Thank you Conrad, Gary and Rob).

I came to a realisation last night, albeit after 4 Jack & Cokes, that I can't abide emotional outbursts in myself. It's fine for others, and I'm certain that I respond compassionately and sensitively to anyone who needs it. It's just a personal standard that I seem to have misguidedly set somewhere along the way. There is something embarrassing about the loss of control when I cry. The tears boil over and can't be stopped. It angers me and I loathe others seeing me so exposed. I feel like a weak and irrational female. I even can't stand films that strike such an emotional chord in me that I cry. I find myself frozen in horror in the cinema. Do I risk a subtle wipe of the face? Will mopping up the emotional out-pour draw attention from the disapproving masses?

Last night over drinks Greg paraphrased an article he had once read by a high powered woman. She was in a top corporate position and contended with a lot of stress in her job. Every so often she would close the door to her office and have a good cry at her desk. In this article she said something to the effect of "I'm a woman, sometimes I need to cry to deal with emotion. It doesn't make me weak. I'm not uncomfortable with that so deal with it."

Somewhere along the line I learned that to be stoic is to be strong, an impossible benchmark considering that the occasional sobbing fit is totally beyond my control. I couldn't even allow myself to grieve openly for the death of my father. I was angry at my family's public grief because it seemed to me attention seeking and self-serving. Yet I was angry when they leaned on my apparent strength for support. Twisted, I know.

Last night I had an epiphany. Strength isn't ignoring your emotions, it's dealing with them. I am a woman. I am emotional. I do on occasion need to cry to let out my stresses.

In my battle to be strong and independent I have mistaken many things and I'm bound to misjudge many more. However hell week and last night's alcohol fuelled therapy session has allowed me to destroy two self-imposed fallacies.

1) To share your problems is to depend on help.
2) To emote is weak.

Now that I'm over those it goes a long way to explaining why I'm up at 04:00 having a very public, emotional outburst to you the perfect stranger.

Whatever people. I'm female. It doesn't make me weak. Get over it!

(Stunning pic courtesy of fdecomite. http://www.flickr.com/photos/fdecomite/1380664755/)

The Big Freeze

2010-01-13T00:41:00.000+00:00

At long last, I am the first Briton to ever think that the weather seems to be conspiring with my needs. This is a satellite image of the UK under the current frosty spell. The snow is no longer such an annoyance, now that I have a bloody good reason to be jumping in it. I can't wait for my Arctic race kit issue, snow proofed boots will certainly prevent a recurrence of my currently sodden and frozen feet.

I've just about acclimatised to the temps. The key point is to let your muscles relax in order for the blood to flow, or at least that's what my boyfriend keeps telling me. Of course, in one week I'm going to be in Hjerkinn, Norway with temperatures of minus 20 C. So I can't really be seen to be bitching about a relatively tropical 0 C, can I?

I'll just moan internally then.

The White Stuff

2010-01-10T18:06:00.002+00:00

While the rest of the UK ground to a halt, due to the longest freeze since, er, well the last time it was as cold as this, I've been out and about taking advantage of the ideal training conditions for the Polar Challenge.

This was an easy 11 km jog (with a few kgs in the backpack) from Canary Wharf to Aldwych, then back to the Tower of London. The surprising benefit of outdoor running is the sight-seeing potential. This route afforded spectacular views of a snow covered London. I ran along the Thames, through a deserted, frozen and seemingly post-apocalyptic city, to a snow flurried St Paul's that was somewhat reminiscent of the snow globe from Mary Poppins. Huh, a post-apocalyptic Mary Poppins? I'd pay to see that.

Though fitness and cold weather conditioning is the holy grail of polar training, I think the dominant benefit of this run was psychological. By which I mean the winning attitude gained by doing the harder thing, when it would be far easier, let's say, to remain huddled under a cocoon of several fluffy blankets whilst simultaneously being heated by a glowing fire and supping on hot toddy. A purely hypothetical example, of course.

I'm thrilled I didn't break anything in the slippy conditions. Last run on the ice caused me to be severely wounded with what could be best described as a paper cut. I slipped and saved my fall by elegantly crashing into a wire fence, hand first. I am bravely soldiering on.

Anyway the cold isn't too damning as long as you keep moving.

Polar Bear Attacks - The Terrors of Racing in the High Arctic

2010-01-08T07:41:00.005+00:00

Hey all, I haven't posted in a while. The magnitude of the race preparation is overwhelming.

I'm constantly tired from the grueling hours of training. When the workout is completed, there is the mammoth task of chasing more sponsorship, fund-raising and writing web updates. Then of course there is the mental preparation. You have to train the mind to cope with the stresses of 15 hours a day in complete isolation with only your headspace to explore, crippling fatigue, and a life-threatening and hostile environment.

Just when you think you can manage all of that, you read about a vicious polar bear attack in Manitoba, Canada. During the race to the North Pole there will of course be the continuous danger of such an encounter, and something like this can really cripple your confidence.

This attack took place in broad daylight, onlookers simply watched and did nothing to help. Please page down to see the severity of the attack.

Photo source unknown

Two Is Company

2009-10-06T10:03:00.005+01:00

As I mentioned previously, the responses from the article had died down, and I thought I was back to square one, and still looking for a team-mate. However....

... In the eleventh hour I was saved.

Apparently people frequently discard their finished newspapers on the train, and conveniently the trains are often not wholly purged of these self same papers. In this way an old copy of a local paper can circulate through many readers and many train lines, and eventually end up in the hands of exactly the right person.

This is how James Davers and I came to meet.

James emailed me after reading my article in an old paper, with a tentative hope of a place on the team, and near certainty that all vacancies were filled. His email seemed to say just the right thing, so I hastily arranged to meet him at the nearest restaurant in the hopes that he was indeed someone I could trust with my life and sanity on the ice.

We immediately hit it off. He has a cheeky, slightly self-deprecating sense of humour that is really amusing. Couple that with his love of the outdoors, and an easiness with both company and solitude, I was sold.

I suspect he has some skills as a Jedi ... I explained to him, in soul numbingly boring detail (something I'll duplicate at a later stage on this blog), the strict diet I was observing at the time for the sake of my health. On the disclosure of my no dairy, no wheat, no sugar, no tomatoes, no meat and no alcohol restrictions, I found myself somewhat surprised to be shoveling my way through a delicious lasagna all on James' cunning recommendation.

Hopefully his evil mind-control will be put to good use in psyching out the competition.

One speedy registration later and we got going with our plan of attack. James pitched up at the next meeting armed to the teeth with maps of training walks and calculations of average walking speeds over different terrains and conditions. It was so gratifying to have someone else actually bring ideas and research to the table, rather than just expect instruction. Which is how a team should behave.

Over the course of the meeting we discussed charities, logos, training, strategy and sponsorship. He happily told me that he was the kind of guy who would pack and repack his gear until he knew that all was accounted for and in its proper place. Then he would walk until he reached his target, no matter what.

All that's left for me to do is feel smug with my choice of new team-mate. After all, how can we not succeed with such a serving and driven attitude!

"If Two Green Bottles Should Accidentally Fall ..."

2009-09-27T22:46:00.006+01:00

The mission as outlined in this previous post was to find a team to race with me to the Magnetic North Pole.

Would you be intrigued by the promise in this newspaper article?

Published

I remember the day my edition of The Wharf came out. I was moving house and was desperate for the time I could venture out to find a copy. My angst was however needless . The lobby of my new apartment had a bounty of copies. Of course my internal narrative at this point was a self-satisfied "it was meant to be" that cemented the righteousness of the house purchase.

I eagerly flipped to relevant page and, naturally, the first thing I did was gaze in horror at the photo. I looked imperfect and swollen (the camera really does add 10 pounds - I hope). Not quite the regal explorer I'd hoped to resemble. Filtering the photo out with a well placed paw, I was thrilled to find the writing ample compensation for my lack of visual clout. Well done Simon Hayes for taking about 1 hour of rambling anecdotes and disjointed facts, to form a coherent, succinct and pointed article. The responses could not help but flood in.

Pause & Propositions

And so it came to pass that there were 3 days of drought so complete I was suspicious my email had malfunctioned. I checked every 30 min to be sure. However on the 4th day the interest started to trickle in. I received so many wonderful emails from fellow Canary Wharfers and was astounded at the quality of their content.

Most people sent a CV-style note, listing their current occupation, reasons for wanting to join and their physical achievements. And what a list of physical achievements they were. There was an applicant who had completed the Marathon des Sables and was an ex-pro ice hokey player. Extreme hikers, regular distance runners with competitive times and mountaineers.

In fact I was so impressed I became a little embarrassed with my own meager physical accomplishments. Until Greg (my talented boyfriend who is not inspired in the least to join me on the ice, even though he's got "the right stuff") pointed out that if it was a necessity to run a sub 3hr marathon to compete in the Polar Challenge, then they would make it a pre-requisite. Which they don't!

Potential

Happily reframed, I set about threshing out the most likely of candidates. My most important criteria were likability, mental fortitude and sphere of influence. Physical prowess, though important and necessary, can be developed. With the right attitude and strong enough reason, anyone can do this. I am, after all, a mere average Jo attempting a ridiculously difficult feat. Therefore a driven, self-motivated and teachable individual would be just as realistic a competitor as an athlete.

Easy nature is an obvious pre-requisite. A team needs to get on well to function smoothly and not go bat-shit crazy and murderous when insomnia, stress and exhaustion are applied to the mix. As it would most likely be fruitless to outwit the unstable with the preclusion "psychopaths need not apply", the cup of tea and a chat method was applied.

The other two criteria deserve a line of expansion. Racing to the arctic is most likely the hardest undertaking that most people would ever complete in their lives. When we experience pain and exhaustion, it is mental toughness that drives us through. One of the speakers at a Polar Challenge introduction day put it thusly "This race is 90% mental and 60% physical". The maths is somewhat confusing to me, but I think I get the point.

Sphere of influence concerns the network of people, ideas and resources that a potential candidate can access for the hard graft of fundraising. Not only will a teammate have to come up with £20k to fund their race, but hopefully assist with the philanthropic aspect of the trip. I hope to use this race as a platform for raising awareness and many of your Earth monies for a worthy cause. In my case, not doing so would purely be self-serving hedonism as my desire to go was born purely of self-serving hedonism.

In the end I had a happy shortlist of 3 good candidates. All great company, physical achievers with impressive careers. My choice to hold the meetings at a pub (cup of tea substituted successfully with alternative beverage) may have augmented the camaraderie a wee bit, but they honestly are awesome chaps every one. All that was left for me to do was make a choice, whittle 3 down to 2, and I would have the fully-formed, winning team.

Pruning

Conveniently one guy couldn't come to a decision on how long it would take him to make a decision and what information he needed in order to make that decision. In other words he wasn't really ready so I readily discounted him, great though he was. The unforgiving Arctic environment is no place for the indecisive. Then I had the perfect 2 for 2. 2 candidates for 2 places. Job done ...

... until a family emergency coupled with a business expansion pulled one more from the ranks. Sad though I was, at least I was no longer alone. I could hold it together as long as I had a companion with whom to halve my problems.

... and then there was 1.

The thing is, when you start a new job, the company you work for doesn't take too kindly to you requesting a full month off to challenge yourself in the Arctic tundra, no matter how self-enlightening that experience may be. Huh. Who knew!

I could fill up the next paragraph with some of the inventive and colourful phrases I birthed in the process of alleviating my frustration, but I think I'll spare your innocence. Anyway the tantrum passed quickly and developed into a more sustainable melancholy. "I'll think of something" ...

Possibilities

.... Meanwhile. on the Jubilee Line, a weary traveler reached for a battered, outdated copy of The Wharf newspaper, and settled in for a good read.

The End?

Charlie vs Teammates 1-0

2009-09-10T22:02:00.006+01:00

Upon receipt of my entrance forms, the first thing Polar Challenge asked me was "who's on your team?". Until that point I was fully convinced that said team would come, fully trained and raring to go, with the entrance pack. As this turned out not to be the case, two courses of action instantly occurred to me.

1) Asking everyone I knew if they were interested in a little flirting with death by extreme physical tribulation, in the arctic wilds.
2) Asking everyone I didn't know if they were interested in a little flirting with death by extreme physical tribulation, in the arctic wilds.

Focusing on the maximum set size, I chose option number 2 (with a light seasoning of 1, as I don't really know anyone actually crazy enough to want to do this type of thing). Once this course of action was clear, I determined that my time would be better spent getting someone else to do the work for me.

So I pitched my story to my local paper - The Wharf. They responded enthusiastically with the offer of a series of articles. Since someone has already said it and said it better, you can read the first article here.

2010 - A Snow Odyssey

2009-06-17T00:47:00.006+01:00

Bear Fodder

In April 2010 I'm competing in the Polar Challenge, which is a 320 nautical mile race to the 1996 magnetic North Pole.

As you can imagine, the conditions are extreme - blinding white snows, ridged ice, biting headwinds and temperatures dropping as low as -50 C. Each competitor hauls 55kg of supplies in a pulk whilst trying to race to the finish line.

And if frostbite, hypothermia and exhaustion are not enough to occupy us, note also that we are not the top of the arctic food chain: the majestic polar bear, though one of the attractions of this adventure, poses a threat. And by threat I mean that they may mistake a racer for a seal and eat them in a fit of hunger. Rather inconsiderate really.

So in short it's one of the toughest race on Earth.

Why the hell am I doing it?

A few years ago I was a smoking, drinking and slightly podgy couch-potato. It was fun getting into that state, but I didn't like being there. In my mind I imagined being fit, slender, sporty - and an achiever. (And I suspect my boyfriend was imagining the same thing too! :-)

Bit of a leap, to a life-threatening trek through the polar regions, you might think. Well, have you ever dreamt of doing something extraordinary? How many of us put off our wants until another day, or talk ourselves out of the desired because it's difficult? I got tired of putting living on hold.

In a future post I'll talk about what I did to change things, but in the meantime the short version is I stopped wishing and started doing. I look back at the last couple of years, noting the dozen countries I have visited, the regular running and gym habit that I've developed, and of course ... being registered for the Polar Challenge.

This challenge is for me my longed-for-extreme-adventure and a chance to test my physical toughness and mental endurance. Add to that the exploration of an arrestingly beautiful environment and the thrill of treading where few people have trod before. (And at the current pace of global warming, where few people may tread in future too.) Worth a little terror in my book!

ic(E)lation is a good thing ...

This blog is documenting my race, which of course starts now. Some of it will cover my experiences, thoughts, achievements (and failures!) that lie ahead of me. Some of it will be transcriptions of a paper journal I've been casually keeping until now.

You're welcome to travel to the North Pole with me. You can do so by registering for the race or, if you have time constraints, by subscribing to ic(E)lation.

... but Isolation is not.

I'm going boldly but not solely. The Polar Challenge is a team event - we're racing in groups of three to the Magnetic North Pole. In future posts you'll meet James Davers, my one team-mate, and follow as we try to find number three (the post is open if you think you're up for it).

ic(E)lation is my personal blog, and to keep an eye on the activities of our team please bookmark icelated.com.