The Adventures of the Anonymous One on the Royal Marine Commando Challenge
I distinctly remember the exact moment of impulse
last year when I phoned the British Military Fitness office and paid my deposit
for the Commando Challenge and believe myself to have been in sound mind at the
time – but in hindsight was clearly deranged.
The Commando Challenge involves training three times
a week for three months (totalling a mere 37 hours of instructor led training,
plus 2 training weekends on Dartmoor) at the end of which you do the Royal
Marines Commando Tests, which consist of:
Day 1: twice round the Okehampton assault
course in 13 minutes. This is followed by the endurance course (6 miles long,
first 1.5 miles involves going through tunnels, lakes and running up several
very steep hills, followed by a 4.5 mile run at the end. One tunnel near the
beginning is completely submerged in water so you do most of the thing soaked
to the skin. To be completed in 72 minutes.
Day 2: 9
mile run to be completed in 90 minutes.
Day 3: 30
mile self navigated yomp across Dartmoor to be completed in 8
hours. (NB
Dartmoor is hilly).
Oh
and did I mention that all of the above is to be done with 30lbs on your back,
which is approximately 24% of my total body weight, and about 16% of the body
weight of an average man. What’s more, I was going to travel an hour and a half
each way to do this, arriving home at 9.45pm after evening training sessions.
In the two to three months between then and the
start of the Challenge the enormity of what I was doing gradually started to
sink in, tinged with a degree of nervousness.
So it was nice on the first session to discover that
the other victims not only included other girls, but also contained men who
seemed quite nice and normal chaps. The first difference between the
Challengers and other British Military Fitness
(BMF) members was that we didn’t wear numbered bibs. Our initial sessions
involved a basic fitness test along the lines of how many press-ups, sit-ups
and burpees we could do, timed sprints and such like. We also met the Marines
who would work us to death, Monty and Keith overseen by the eagle eyes of Kev.
The information handed out at the first session gave
us various facts about the training which included the comment that at the end
of the training we would have less body fat than an Olympic rower. Yipee
thought I. Less body fat = smaller bum.
We all had our own reasons for attempting the
Challenge. My reason was simple - and
slightly less shallow than just the smaller bum. I have been made aware of my
own mortality at a young age having had two separate occasions in the last 11
years where my body has tried to grow cancer, and being screened to this day
more rigorously than is medically required, such is my GP’s concern that it may
happen again. However this also serves as a constant reminder to me of how
short life can be.
This has made me want to live life to the full and
do extreme things. (This year alone I am paragliding, parachute jumping, tank
driving, travelling to Italy, Bavaria, Islay and China - SARS or not, as well
as Escaping & Evading on the very same Dartmoor). I wanted to push myself
to my mental and physical limits that the Challenge seemed to offer.
The first few weeks of the Challenge certainly
lulled us into a false sense of security by being relatively ‘easy’ i.e.
wearing trainers, carrying no weight and just being given a general thrashing
and practising the finer art of speed marching.
But it was enough to make us ache, and we were doing
the next session still aching from the previous one. It gradually dawned on us
that we would not stop aching now for three months.
The first training session with Keith was introduced
by him along the lines of ‘let’s go and get fit’ with ominous instructions to
‘just keep up’ as he motored off round Hyde Park stopping here and there for
jumping lunges, press-ups and lying on our backs with our feet 6 inches off the
ground. For the men in the group, this meant that their feet were considerably
higher above the ground than the girls. We finished off sprinting between lamp
posts and having the joy of burpees with a press up. Keith graciously admitted
that the last one we would not sprint as we would be crawling by then.
We also discovered quite quickly Keith’s penchant
for press-ups. The first press up set we did with him involved starting at 20
and working down to two sets of 2 (apparently Marines never do only 1 press
up). We quickly totted up that we had just done 211 press-ups – which made our
efforts in the initial fit tests seem a tragically poor effort. What was
particularly galling was that Keith knocked them out with us, considerably
quicker and without even breaking a sweat.
Monty by comparison was relatively gentle with us.
He liked joining in with whatever he was making us do and had the decency to
sweat as much as the best of us. But his press-up and sit-up sets would start
at 15 and work up to 23 – psychologically more difficult.
For one of his sessions we actually chose how many
of each exercise we would do during the hour and somehow decided on:
200 press-ups
10 sprints200 sit-ups
200 tricep dips
150 burpees
20 pull ups
We all did them, but realised the next day why doing
150 burpees is just plain foolish.
In one session, to assist with increasing our leg
strength, we ran 4 miles round Hyde Park in the horse track – which is all
sand. As we circled back round the Serpentine we were once again on tarmac –
until Sally Gunnell pointed out the sand track alongside us and asked Monty if
we could run in that instead, and Monty all too willingly obliged. She was
nearly thrown into the Serpentine for that idea.
We had been given a programme at the start outlining
what each and every training session would involve. So the first session with
boots on came as no surprise - a gentle speed march round Hyde Park to identify
any potential boots problems. Although not massively painful, running with
boots certainly makes some legs muscles hurt that never hurt before. And most
our muscles had hurt by then.
The shorter legged among us also found keeping up
with Keith’s immense walking stride somewhat difficult – so the walking part of
the speed march ended up being just as difficult as the running part.
This rapidly progressed to sessions with boots and
weight, and all the horrors that involved. It also quickly developed the team
spirit. Monty and Keith both often said that our group was notably faster and
fitter than the group last year.
Kelly Holmes and I, who regularly trailed behind the
rest of the group, were slightly comforted by the fact that had we done the
Challenge last time, we would have been comfortably in the middle of the group
ability, with others trailing behind us.
The group were particularly good at encouraging each
other and trying to keep everyone going, but ultimately if someone struggled
then the rest of the group had to keep going without them. Christopher Dean
would drop back for a while to run with any stragglers to keep them going. Steve
Redgrave and Tom Daly would shout out encouragement, and Steve Redgrave would
also hang back a little to keep egging on anyone behind. Steve Cram favoured
the ‘grab hold of shoulder of said person and just drag them back into the
fold’ approach. Another method was the lads putting their hands on your bergan
and just pushing you along.
Tagging along at the end is a very dark place to be and a small number of us were there. It is to our credit that we kept going under those circumstances and sometimes even caught up the main body of the group again.
We were starting to find that we were becoming much
more tired and much more hungry. Steve Redgrave found that he would wake up at
about 4am starving hungry after a session the previous evening, and would have
to get up to eat. Other people had stopped drinking alcohol, Steve Redgrave
amongst them, and Friday night activities were now determined by what session
was due on the Saturday morning. Tom Daly found that the best way to stop
himself from being tempted by a Friday night glass of wine was to clean his bathroom
instead. I would sometimes struggle to stay awake on my drive home and arrived
back torn between eating and falling asleep. There was one occasion when I fell
asleep in the hallway while in the process of taking my boots off.
We had also started doing things in our own time
including cycling, swimming, running with weight, finding hills to run up and
monkey bars to play on with our weight on. The Commando Challenge had
surreptitiously taken over our lives and only the most supporting of partners
and families could deal with this new found obsessive behaviour. Steve Redgrave
had started cycling to improve his leg strength and Monty showed him that if he
wore his cycling helmet back to front, the plastic loops would circle his eyes
goggle style and that this was definitely the way forward.
Steve Redgrave also started to develop an unhealthy
interest in all things involving a physical challenge and e-mailed the group
with details of a triathlon for beginners. The web site included handy hints
for beginners, such as ‘how to get out of your wetsuit quickly’ and ‘how to
find your bicycle’.
Group e-mails had become quite common by then and
the conversations we had were nothing short of truly bizarre.
Monty soon realised that we viewed Keith’s sessions
with trepidation, especially when we asked who was due to take the next one and
all visibly gave sighs of relief or squeals of worry depending on his response.
Monty also rather liked showing off to other BMF members. As we came crawling
in from a particularly gruelling session which had involved large amounts of
‘gurning’ he would tell us to get it together as we came into the car park, all
speed marching in perfect time, heads high, chests out, to show how nails we
were.
NB Gurning = physical effort and determination to
keep going as hard as you can, that exceeds the call of duty.
The first weekend away was an eye opener. The
joining instructions promised that we would come back a bit more nails and with
more hair on our arses. It was a 10lb weekend – which meant that we would carry
10lbs for everything we did.
Marines are obviously very nails. Monty built himself
a basha – of sorts – to sleep under, as did Kev, while a huge, waterproof,
windproof tent was erected to keep the food in! Steve Redgrave had a fantastic
tent, which seemed to include a foyer and servants quarters.
The first night was freezing. Steve Redgrave was
particularly cold and the next morning discovered that his sleeping bag was in
fact designed for one balmy night in the Caribbean, provided he slept inside. It
said so on the label. And even then you might be a little chilly.
We breakfasted on curious combinations of pocket
pasties, Nutrigrain, crisps, bread, cereal and tea with grass in it.
On Saturday morning, after map reading and first aid
training came team-building exercises in which Monty considered we had all made
a ‘hoofing’ effort. Roughly translated this means we all gave it a jolly good
go.
The First Aid training was not without amusement as
we were told that telling a casualty you were a first aider has been proven to
increase their stress levels.
Keith, now fondly known as psychotic Keith, then led
us off for a 1.5k run – up a tor, into the wind. It is fair to say that most of
us experienced pain that truly surpassed any pain that had even been felt
before.
Steve Redgrave’s back was giving him a little
trouble (something to do with unnecessary aggression during the team building
games which had involved building a rope swing). I remember seeing him half way
up the hill, lying on his back, daring to take it easy for a minute or two.
Rest at the top? Oh no, Keith felt that some press-ups and sit-ups were much more
the order of the day.
Followed by a run back down, made more alarming by
have the wind pushing us down the hill, and 100 press-ups and sit-ups once we
got back to the campsite.
The afternoon was spent practising navigating, and
going for a short self navigated yomp in which we discovered the following:
1) Dartmoor is criss crossed
with marshes and streams and therefore getting wet feet is a foregone
certainty, even with the most expert of stream crossing ability.
2) Dartmoor has lots of barbed
wire fences. Until then, all we had worried about in the downstairs area was
chafing.
3) Dartmoor is covered in lots
of prickly things that get stuck in your legs and hurt
4) Dartmoor has some seriously
steep hills.
The evening was rounded off nicely with beer, hot
dinner and pear and ginger crumble.
Over dinner Keith and Monty enlightened us with
tales of Marine life, such as the time when Monty was seen by the world’s press
having a crap. Monty also told us how he came up with the idea of the Commando
Challenge while sitting in the bath. Keith also told us about a half marathon
he ran (the morning after a night of drinking). At the start he was asked what
his strategy was – which consisted of ‘run it as fast as you can because it’s
going to hurt so the sooner you get it over with the sooner it stops hurting’
and he completed the run in what the group generally considered to be a
ridiculous time. Suddenly, so many things about Keith’s sessions fell into
place.
Those whose drinking had ceased for a while
experienced all sorts of problems when they drank again, but by then had learnt
to work through the pain. Although Steve Redgrave did mention that drinking was
now giving him new experiences, such as being on the verge of blacking out
after about 2 pints.
We learnt new (marine) words: wet = drink
(relatively obvious) and scran = food (not so obvious). We also started to
realise what an exercise maniac Sally Gunnell was as she cart wheeled her way
to the pub, grinning like a Cheshire cat and asking all and sundry if they
wanted to go for a run with her. It just wasn’t normal.
Having learnt from the previous night, I went to
sleep that night wearing all the clothes I had brought with me. This included 5
tops, 3 pairs of trousers and 4 pairs of socks. I would have worn more socks
but couldn’t fit any more on.
The following morning I got up early to attend to a
call of nature and it was an amazing morning. It was only slightly starting to
get light and the moon was bright orange and low in the sky, which was a dark,
inky blue. Tom Daly was also up and about, wandering around in his pants
looking as though he had escaped from a local home for the bewildered. ‘It’s
going to be another beautiful day’ I said. ‘No’ he replied. ‘What you mean is,
the weather is going to be nice’.
Normally at 7.15 on a Sunday morning I would be in
bed – which seems eminently sensible. However, on this particularly Sunday at
7.15am the whole group was up, dressed, washed (after a fashion) and
breakfasting on Nutrigrain bars (I think it’s safe to say that we all now hate
Nutrigrain bars) just about to set off for our 4 mile timed test run along the
Dartmoor loop to earn our Commando Challenge T-Shirt – wanted by many, owned by
few. And we all earned ours that day. There’s nothing quite like running along
the hills with snot from the person next to you blowing into your face.
After the run we were briefly shown the assault
course at Okehampton Camp that we would be using in the tests. Daly Thomson had
a go on the monkey bars for us, but Monty advised us not to go on any other of
the obstacles in case someone saw and got a bit emotional about it.
We were shown the zigzag wall (which is several feet
high and has gaps between the zigs and zags – you’re meant to run the wall and
jump the gaps) and Daly Thomson asked ‘if you fall off, do you just go back and
do it again’. ‘No’, replied Monty. ‘If you fall off, you go to hospital’.
Just when we thought it was all over, one of the
group had to pretend to be a casualty, and the team then had to run with them
back to camp – including getting them over a gate.
After this we turned homewards. We also had the
added entertainment at the end of the weekend of watching Daly Thomson take
down his tent.
Weekend top tip: don’t use the hot water to make
your tea until you have established whether someone has already been waiting
half an hour for it to boil.
The session immediately after our weekend away was
meant to be ‘gentle’. However, after a most monstrous, dangerous and thoroughly
aggressive cone game Monty decided to stuff the gently idea and just thrash us
anyway as we clearly had too much energy.
The scuffle in the Middle East impacted on our training
sessions in two ways. Firstly, as Monty worked for the MOD he wasn’t able to
take all the sessions he had intended to, and some had to be re-scheduled.
Secondly, peace marches in Hyde Park meant we had to re-locate some of our
sessions and try to look a bit less military. As Monty put it in one of his
e-mails to the group, speed marching round Hyde Park in combats, boots, with
Commando Challenge T shirts and back packs might result in us being beaten to
death with ‘Not in My Name’ banners.
Also, due to the MOD’s greater need of Monty we were
getting more sessions taken by Keith and by now his opening comment had
progressed from ‘let’s get fit’ to ‘let’s work so hard your eyes bleed’. And he
wasn’t joking. Lots of press-ups with 20lbs on your back is a whole new world
of pain. But he was usually rather impressed with gurning groans that such
press-up sets induced.
On one particular Saturday we turned out and no
instructor did. It was a beautiful warm and sunny day. A measure of the mindset
we had now reached was that we actually took ourselves for the session – and
worked ourselves reasonably hard, making sure we all looked in fine form as we
speed marched passed the green bib BMF group (BMF has colour coded bibs and
Green was for the fittest and fastest). Colin Jackson primarily led the session
and I think we have found his true vocation.
Monty apologised profusely for this confusion but
commented that there is a war on, which we are winning due solely to his
efforts at the MOD.
This was soon followed by a few of us (Jonathan
Edwards, Steve Redgrave, Sally Gunnell, Kelly Holmes and me) volunteering to go
to Dartmoor for an extra weekend. The group travelling down from London (driven
by Jonathan Edwards) managed to go via Portsmouth, working on the principle of
‘we’ll just set off and see what happens’. I began to feel sorry for whoever
else was in their team for the self-navigated 30 miler. I came down in the
morning instead, leaving home at 4.30am to meet the group emerging from their
tents, consuming large quantities of the dreaded Nutrigrain bars. The original
plan had been to sleep in the bunkhouse but it was felt that this would not be
in the true spirit of things. Their tent had been pitched slightly further out
into the field than when we were all here on the weekend away, and had been
considerably less cold.
Given Jonathan Edwards’s navigational challenges I
led the way to the Dartmoor loop. There wasn’t enough room in Jonathan Edwards’s
car for all of us anyway – it seemed to have been taken over by Sally Gunnell’s
kit. Sally Gunnell had also filled my car with boulders and rocks to put in her
bergan for the run.
Keith decided we were all ‘billy bonkers’ for doing
this extra training weekend. And half way through our self appointed nine mile
run (along a route which Monty had most accurately described as heinous) I
agreed with Keith. We damn nearly did 18 miles had Steve Redgrave not realised
in the nick of time that if we parked and ran 9 miles away from the car, we
would have to come back! Sally Gunnell and I drove out 4.5 miles marking each
mile point with duct tape. The intention was that we would pick up the tape on
the way back. Which we completely forgot to do. Steve Redgrave commented that
we weren’t proper marines. A real marine leaves nothing behind. He also pointed
out that crowds of sheep would gather at each bit of tape looking at it,
wondering what it was.
As Kelly Holmes and I came in from the run I could
feel the skin leaving my toes. I took my boots off at the end and saw the blood
on my socks that had soaked through two pairs.
The 9 miler then became the foundation for all sort
of civil rights, such as, no member of the public should be allowed to drive
back on the A303 unless they had done the 9 miler. And Ken Livingstone may get
a letter or two suggesting that people’s rights in London should be dependent
on whether they have done the 9 miler.
We also all agreed that, despite being civilians
ourselves, we had developed contempt for all civilians as being wasters.
During lunch we discussed Sally Gunnell’s eating
habits. If I remember correctly, it’s something along the lines of this: she
only eats organic, living, uncooked things. When a fly got stuck in Steve
Redgrave’s mash he offered it to Sally Gunnell on the grounds that it was
alive, but she declined his kind offer.
We nobly tried some of the food she prepares for
herself and generally agreed that it was revolting.
That afternoon we had intended to go for a hearty
yomp, but a combination of the effect of the 9 miler on our feet, a big lunch
(inclusive of pear and ginger crumble) and in some cases a couple of beers,
reduced it to a much shorter walk. An addition to the group suggested we walk
up to Widgery Cross. Steve Redgrave pointed out that it looked so nice from
down here it seemed a shame to spoil it by seeing it close up.
While resting in the sun up on the hills that
afternoon we commented on the fact that some of the sessions had mentioned the
inclusion of fireman’s carry, yet this had not yet been included. I made the
observation that this might have been there more for variety and fun than being
a vital skill for the Challenge. This was met with Steve Redgrave crying ‘Fun!
Oh yes, pick up your mate and run for two miles just for fun. That’s the sort
of thing Keith would do!’ At which point
he picked up Sally Gunnell, and with both her and his kit, ran for a little bit
up the hill just to show how fun it was.
Steve Redgrave also started to become a bit of a
bergan hugger and repeating mantra type phrases of ‘my bag is my weapon and my
weapon is my friend’ and ‘ be nice to your weapon and it will be nice to you’.
We came back from that extra weekend even more nails
than we had been before, but, speaking for myself, still with a marked absence
of hairy arse.
By this stage most Challengers has also noticed
changes to their body. Mine included an increase of 2 inches to my upper body
girth due to the increase in muscles down my back. This rather brilliantly
meant that none of my bras would fit any more (not helped by simultaneous
shrinkage in breast size), and along with the enormous shoulders I had
developed, the whole look was becoming decidedly unfeminine. However, bum was
stubbornly remaining the same. During our extra weekend away it had been
suggested that I had misunderstood the information given and that actually the
Challenge had promised hairy arse, not smaller arse.
As
well as changing your lifestyle and body shape, the Commando Challenge also teaches
you a lot about yourself. To stand any chance of even getting through the
tests, irrespective of the timings, you have to utterly commit to the Challenge
and push yourself beyond all limits of physical and mental ability.
You
soon learn that your mind gives up long before your body does, and the training
starts to become a battle of wills, bloody-minded determination and the ability
to keep going through the pain. You learn a lot about your own personal limits
and attitudes as well your ability to overcome the mental fatigue and nagging
message in your head telling you that you can’t do it. The effort is totally
individual. The instructors will not shout at you to keep up, or gently
encourage you. You keep going if you want to. If you don’t, then you’re on your
own. No one else will do the motivation thing on your behalf.
The second weekend was fast upon us – a 25lb
weekend.
By now we were old hands. Except Daly Thomson that
is, who was the first to start putting up his tent – and the last to finish
putting up his tent, and then found that he had pitched it on the lumpiest part
of the campsite. Keith had a tent bought in a mega sale that was utterly
impractical (it did not condense to a shape that could be carried on/in a
rucksack) but had a massive novelty factor. Basically it was like a slinky.
Compressed = no tent, stretched out = tent. Daly Thomson rather amusingly
pointed at one of the basha’s and commented that he never intended to sleep
under one of them (for those who don’t know, Daly Thomson is planning to join the
Royal Marines). After everyone had put up their tents Jonathan Edwards and Steve
Redgrave announced their discovery that the edge of the campsite (where
everyone was, except them) seemed to have a microclimate whereby your tent was
covered with icicles at around 2am, and that it was much warmer where they
were.
Despite this, most people were actually warm that
night.
Daly Thomson, who had been having trouble getting
comfortable boots had yet another pair of new boots for the weekend. Kev
advised him to wear them for the gentler activities to limit the damage to his
feet and swap to his other pair for the more involved and arduous events.
Saturday involved hurling ourselves round the
assault course an unnecessary number of times, both with weight and without.
The first obstacle is a water jump (which had been full of frogspawn when we
saw it on the first weekend, and was now full of tadpoles). On the first lap we
all tried to jump this but second time round almost everyone, in absolute
absence of energy, just jumped straight in without even the slightest attempt
to jump over it.
As the girls struggled to get over the 6 foot wall
(obstacle 2) the men kneeled down, lined up against the wall like a row of
suitors, for us to climb on. Three of us set off together. Three of us jumped straight
into the water (with a 2 footed landing of course), thereby causing extra
splashage. Three men visibly shrank back into the wall with a look on their
face of ‘they’re wet, they’re covered in tadpoles and they’re going to climb on
us’.
The assault course also caused a damage toll. Linford
Christie’s shoulder dislocated while on the monkey bars. Miraculously he held
on single handed for a couple of minutes while Kev and Keith lifted him off. (Jonathan
Edwards brilliantly did not notice this drama as he came swinging along the
same row of bars that Linford Christie has come asunder on. Only once there it
did start to occur to him that he might now experience a little difficulty
getting past). Colin Jackson fell from the 30-foot high rope. Sally Gunnell
tried the rope and on her second go managed to get caught as she pulled herself
out onto the rope. Initially Keith wasn’t sure what to do, or where to put his
hands. The view from the ground as he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her
back, bum in the air, was nothing short of amusing. He then shouted to the rest
of us that she was wearing sexy bondage knickers with whips and ties all over
them that had got caught. It was in fact the tie on her trousers. (This event
was taken out of the final challenge due to safety concerns, and replaced with
the practice runs on the similar obstacle a mere 2 foot off the ground).
Kelly Holmes fell off the monkey bars when she had
the weight on, and Jonathan Edwards, who at that moment had camera control,
felt unable to take a picture. It was not, he thought, a Kodak moment.
It was more than a little alarming for Kelly Holmes.
Firstly, the water was very cold, and secondly her head was completely
submerged for a moment or two and as she is not a swimmer this was particularly
unnerving.
In true nails style she got up and carried on to the
zigzag wall. However, after jumping off awkwardly and spraining her ankle very
badly, this marked the end of weekend activities for her. She decided that on
the real thing she would just climb over the rails around the monkey bars, and
walk through the water rather than risk another fall.
Getting over the walls with weight became a massive
teamwork event, with people rushing over and pushing every part of you over.
Having a big arse became an advantage to accommodate the number of hands that
were on it to get you over the walls.
The assault course is not long, but we were all
surprised as how utterly exhausted we were at the end of it. Crawling through
the tunnels at the end, many of us had lost our lungs.
I had been having trouble with my shins, momentarily in most sessions of the course, but more significantly over the previous week. Although I tried to climb off obstacles rather than jump, the assault course did them no favours. Very early on into the 12k yomp back to camp I reluctantly conceded defeat, along with Colin Jackson. My legs just wouldn’t move. No matter how much I wanted them to. And that was the end of our weekend activity. It was a difficult decision to make.
It was made harder in that I had taken a lot of
ibuprofen and had put ibuprofen gel all over my shins. Therefore, as Roger
Bannister pointed out I didn’t really know how much damage I was causing
myself. Roger Bannister admired my wanting to continue, but also considered it
to be foolish when considering the longer-term implications. I could have
continued, albeit in pain, but at the risk of causing such an extent of damage
that I actually ended up putting myself out of the game. With only three weeks
to go, discretion had to be the better part of valour. It was hard to know the
best thing to do. The problem was being exacerbated in that my body was trying
to compensate for the damage to my shins by putting other parts of my legs
under additional strain, and my knees and hamstrings were feeling this extra
burden.
There were again more tales told over our Saturday
evening pints. Steve Redgrave discussed the finer art of cooking crabs. The
usual way involves putting the crab in a pot of water, which is then gently
heated. Apparently the crab initially is ok. As the water warms it finds it
rather cosy and as it starts to get very hot then it runs around and around the
pot in increasing discomfort until if finally dies. Steve Redgrave had read
that putting a screwdriver between their eyes and giving one hard tap with a
hammer killed the crab outright. Considering this to be a much more humane way
of killing the crab he proceeded with this course of action. As soon as he hit
the screwdriver in, the crab’s claws circled up to its head and grabbed the
screwdriver. There was then a wrestling match between Steve Redgrave and the
crab in which the crab did lose but also became quite mutilated. During the
attack, when there was sight of blood and shell everywhere, his girlfriend had
come in and he explained to her that he was just humanely killing the crab. Now
he just puts them in the pot alive, puts a lid on and leaves the room.
Tragically there was no pear and ginger crumble.
Instead it became crumble surprise as they did not have enough of any flavour
for all of us.
We further discussed Sally Gunnell and her food, and
she had more living delights for us to try. After it had been passed round and
generally disliked she informed us that it might actually have gone off.
Keith, in further demonstration of how nails he was,
told us that the previous weekend he had gone to Estonia for a rugby match.
There was deep snow and a blizzard so naturally the decision was made to leave
the changing room completely naked. We also found out the Estonian for 12
months.
That night I was kept awake for hours by the
constant ache in my legs. I tossed and turned trying to find a position where
there was no pain, but only ended up tying my sleeping bag in knots which
pinned my legs together requiring manual assistance. Also I was boiling hot.
During the night Christopher Dean and Steve Cram
appeared having spent Saturday doing phys with the Royal Marine Recruits on the
South Downs.
As we breakfasted in the rain Christopher Dean told
us he had only ever seen Dartmoor when it was raining. It therefore seemed
natural to assume that is was his fault that it had started raining in the
night, as we had had beautiful weather prior to this when he had not attended.
Sunday involved the 6-mile run, the first two miles
of which were very unpleasantly up hill.
We wondered if our duct tape would still be there. I
pointed out that some sheep may have eaten it and choked, and that each mile
might now be marked by a dead sheep instead.
By now, many of us were unable to be part of this
run, and could only offer support from the minibus as it followed.
We stopped at the half way point to put up a water
stop. As the minibus continued along the road, Steve Redgrave pointed out that
the sheep would probably pollute the mugs and water knowing that we were the
one who put the duct tape down.
Sally Gunnell fell behind for the first time ever in
the course and Kev got out to run with her and keep her going. At the water
stop he grabbed some dreaded Nutrigrain bars from the minibus to give to her.
Such was her hunger that she would have wrestled him to the ground for it. He
then fed her bite size chunks of it as they continued to run along. One bit she
dropped, and stopped running to pick it up and eat it. We then realised why
Nutrigrain tasted so bad. If Sally Gunnell would eat them, they must be made of
organic living things. Kev later apologised saying that had he known she had
eating preferences (he damn nearly said eating disorder), he would have picked
some weeds or something for her instead.
In the distance we had also watched the group and
seen Tom Daly fall off the end and catch up again on two separate occasions.
The run had been heroic.
Monty had been unable to come on this weekend, so
Keith had taken the speed march. Through his gasps for breath at the end Steve
Redgrave said ‘he ran up the hills and walked down them. That’s not my kind of
speed march. What sort of sense does that make. We like Monty’s. He walks up
the hills and runs down’. Apparently Keith had also laughed for most of the
final mile.
As we drove to Waitrose to top up on food Kev gave
us all a well earned telling off for not eating and drinking anywhere near
enough for the activities we were undertaking. Sally Gunnell followed this by
eating a couple of bags of organic crisps. In one weekend, we had ruined her
dietary standards.
After this we had a walk through of the endurance
course. Although my shins would never have coped with the 6-mile run (running
on hard surfaces, downhill, with the added issue of boots and weight all
combines to equal pain) I had hoped to have a go at the endurance course.
However, as it involved getting wet, and as the
weather was cool, in order to prevent anyone getting too cold the course was
run rather than walked. Daly Thomson had also joined the wounded by this stage
due to absence of skin on his feet. He had indeed swapped boots – but had
failed to mention that the second pair were also brand new.
We walked round the course, taking short cuts. And
that was enough to get my legs hurting – so the run round would have been very
much out of the question.
While packing up I noticed that Tom Daly had brought
a crossword puzzle book. ‘Well’ he said ‘it creates conversation during the
long runs. I’m stuck on 4 down – the clue is fucking hard and eight more of
them to go’.
I left the weekend thoroughly disheartened and very
unsure about what to do given the state of my legs.
It seems that injury was also of concern to Monty
and Kev who each sent e-mails of encouragement, pointing out that our bodies
were being taken to places they hadn’t been before and injuries were
inevitable.
I
went to a physio and explained to her that in just less than three weeks my
legs needed to be able to do the Commando tests. She diagnosed Compartment
Syndrome the definition of which is: A syndrome of compression of the nerves
and blood vessels in an anatomic compartment leading to impaired blood flow and
nerve damage. If this pressure is high enough, blood flow to the compartment
will be blocked which can lead to permanent injury to the muscle and nerves. If
the pressure lasts long enough, the limb may even need to be amputated.
I was also diagnosed as having shin splints: A shin splint is essentially
an inflammatory reaction involving the deep tissues of the lower leg and may
involve tendons & muscles. The inflammatory reaction occurs at the point
where the deep tissues insert into the inside (medial) or front (anterior)
aspect of the leg bone (tibia), and the bone itself can become tender.
Despite this, my physio initially felt that she
could get my legs to a state where they should hold up for the Challenge.
However, this would mean that I could do no running in the meantime. This would
not have been an option anyway as the physio treatment was so intense and
painful that it was difficult to walk for the rest of the day that I had
treatment. It also meant that I had to wear leg supports continually until some
time after the tests, with additional bandaging being needed while actually
doing the tests.
After much gnashing of teeth and overuse of swear
words I made the decision that despite being unable to do any high impact
training for the remainder of the course, I would proceed with the Commando
Tests. I was therefore now going to do a 13 week course with only 10 weeks of
training.
I e-mailed the group to let them know that they
wouldn’t be seeing me, but that I hadn’t dropped out. I received several
e-mails of support. Colin Jackson wished me happy healing and exchanged notes
on how his physio was going. Kev congratulated my fighting spirit and my mind’s
determination to go on, even if my body was failing me. Chris Akabusi was
stunned at the terrible health toll the course was taking, and took avid
interest in how everyone was doing. But I think my personal favourite came from
Jonathan Edwards who simply said:
‘You are completely
nails and hairy of derriere for going ahead with the tests in the
circumstances! RESPECT. Take it easy and see you on the hills’.
Stress fractures often are the result of increasing the amount or intensity of an activity too rapidly. They also can be caused by the impact of an unfamiliar surface (Dartmoor); improper equipment, i.e. a runner using worn or less flexible shoes (boots); and increased physical stress (30lbs bergan).
We receive our joining instructions for the test
weekend, which began ‘Dear flinty eyed fast moving hard hitting dealers of
messy amphibious death’ and included a strong recommendation to take out
personal accident insurance.
I drove down to Okehampton camp on Thursday night,
unsure about how far through the weekend I would be able to get. Kev was
already there with Mat (another ex-marine who was helping out for the weekend)
and Linford Christie had only recently arrived. We retired to the NAAFI for a
drink where unsurprisingly I was the only girl. The group gradually gathered
throughout the evening and we settled in to our grots (rooms).
Monty and the group he was bringing arrived last –
partly because Monty usually talks for the entire journey, driving slower as a
result and partly because they stopped off for a slap up dinner.
Due to shortage of rooms in the male block, Tom Daly
was given a room with the girls, and was honoury girl for the remainder of the
weekend. Sally Gunnell had a room to herself – which was fortunate as within
seconds every bit of the floor and beds were covered in her kit.
That evening Daly Thomson walked into Kelly Holmes
and my room terribly confused about what block he was meant to be in.
The following morning, after scran (Linford Christie
was missing the crisp sandwich breakfasts of previous weekends), we had a
briefing in the instructors’ rooms and each of us commented, as we trooped in,
that they had carpets and we didn’t. It was also noticed that there was a
strong smell of crap that Kev proudly owned up to. Tom Daly mentioned that the
smell of food generally makes you hungry and he was finding that the smell of
shit was making him need a dump.
During the briefing Monty took out his green beret
to re-iterate what these tests were all about and said that if anyone passed,
they would be allowed to touch it. Kev informed us that the Green Beret was
either £6.99 from forces surplus stores or 2000 lbs of blood and sweat. This
was followed by a Royal Marines Commando Recruitment video with some footage of
the tests we were to undertake – and a starring role by Kev, who had hair then.
Kev told us that this was the time to set out stall out about what we wanted to
achieve.
We also had to sign a two page disclaimer which
basically confirmed that we understood the extreme nature of what we were about
to undertake and promised to obey our instructors at all times.
Some of us, anticipating the water involvement of
Day 1 had gaffa taped our bergans to make them both compact for the tunnels and
slightly more water resistant. Having not weighed them with the official
Commando Challenge scales, when underweight we simply gaffa taped cast iron
discs and stones to the outside of our bergans.
Shortly after this we trundled down to the assault
course. Christopher Dean was there so it was raining and we were all accepting
that this would mean coming off the monkey bars as the bars would be slippery.
On our quick reminder walk around the obstacles we
noticed that the tadpoles in the water jump were considerably bigger and
insisted on swimming right at the edge – where we were most likely to land. I
was pleased they weren’t frogs yet. Jumping on frogs would have been horrible.
You can’t get emotional about a tadpole.
The water under the monkey bars had been drained and
therefore this obstacle was out of bounds and an alternative was devised. Also
the swing bridge had been condemned.
As we had no intention of doing the 30 foot high
rope we instead had to leopard crawl through the gravel beneath it.
We were set off for two laps of the assault course
in pairs, with an instructor accompanying each person. Kev came round with me
and kept going on about racing lines. On the run back down the road to start
again he seemed to think that I would hurtle along as fast as I could. My plan,
in fact, was to use this as my recovery time before going through the whole thing
again.
Both Steve Redgrave and Monty had brought video
cameras and over the next hour or so they gathered footage of heroic effort and
gurning. It is impossible to explain just how exhausting the assault course is.
The tadpole massacre was immense.
Christopher Dean – our Royal Marine Reservist –
failed, despite two attempts as he could not master the replacement monkey
bars.
After a shower and scran we headed off to Lympstone
for the endurance course. On the drive down Daly Thomson asked Monty if he
could take his shirt off to go through Pete’s pool. Monty answered simply by
saying ‘Daly Thomson, note to self. Do not ask that question once you have
joined as a recruit’.
Kelly Holmes and I set off first accompanied by Kev
and Monty. We trotted down and up and into the first of five tunnels. Inside
the tunnels it is completely black. They have been brilliantly designed to go
deep and turn such that the light at the end is barely visible until you’re
there.
Due to the recent wet weather it was also about a foot deep in freezing water.
Emerging at the end, somewhat bedraggled we then headed down to Pete’s pool. Basically this involves walking through a pool of again, freezing water. There is a rope through the middle to pull yourself along with. The water went almost up to my neck and the shock of the cold made breathing difficult. Sometimes the uneven footing meant that I sank a little deeper.
We clambered out at the other end, aware that our rucksacks were a fraction heavier and ran, after a fashion, up the hill the other side and down a deep, well worn gulley, through a stream to the sheep dip. This is tunnel two and is completely submerged in water. It’s not very long and the basic principle is that one person pushes you in and another pulls you out. Kev pushed Kelly Holmes through and I pulled her out then Monty pushed me though and Kev pulled me out at the other end.
Due to the recent wet weather it was also about a foot deep in freezing water.
Emerging at the end, somewhat bedraggled we then headed down to Pete’s pool. Basically this involves walking through a pool of again, freezing water. There is a rope through the middle to pull yourself along with. The water went almost up to my neck and the shock of the cold made breathing difficult. Sometimes the uneven footing meant that I sank a little deeper.
We clambered out at the other end, aware that our rucksacks were a fraction heavier and ran, after a fashion, up the hill the other side and down a deep, well worn gulley, through a stream to the sheep dip. This is tunnel two and is completely submerged in water. It’s not very long and the basic principle is that one person pushes you in and another pulls you out. Kev pushed Kelly Holmes through and I pulled her out then Monty pushed me though and Kev pulled me out at the other end.
Despite sounding unpleasant most people found this
tunnel presented them with no problems at all. After this, naturally, there was
a run up hill and a welcome bit of flat before dropping down to an area of
unprecedented bog.
I managed to step in one of many areas of this where your
leg rapidly sank to the groin, and in an effort to extricate myself, fell flat
on my face into the mud – which smelt unbelievably awful.
After running through
some trees and puddles and mud we then got to an area of wet red clay, ending
in a pit that you needed to climb out of. While running through the knee deep
water some dog walkers were on the path alongside, looking at us with sheer
amazement. As well they might. Kev led me out of the clay at the side where the
bank was small and therefore easier to get out from. Daly Thomson ran straight
on towards a six foot ‘wall’ of wet clay that he was intending to climb out
from. He never had the chance as instead he sank to his chest in the wet clay.
His voice rose several decibels as he shrieked ‘Help! Get me out of here! I’m
sinking!’ and frantically waved his arms about demanding rescue.
Up and down a few more hills and through another
tunnel at least a foot deep in water. This one went up at the end into shingle
and I struggled horribly to get out, trying to claw my way through the shingle
with Colin Jackson behind me pushing my feet.
By now knees and elbows were bruised and battered.
The tunnels are floored by stones.
In one of the remaining tunnels it was particularly
dark and bendy. I could hear Tom Daly ahead of me and kept calling out to him
to find out which way the tunnel turned to avoid banging my head on the
corrugated iron sides. But he never heard me. I could also hear Jonathan
Edwards splashing through the tunnel behind me. Aware that I was going slowly I
became concerned that he would come hurtling into my bum. Finally the light at
the end appeared and we all emerged, better people for the experience.
In the final tunnel I could was aware that I wanted
to cry. Every muscle in me hurt. My knees and elbows were in tatters. I could
hardly breathe. My back was bruised from the 30lbs rucksack. In the mile or so
of leafy lane (pretty wooded path before getting to the road) I could barely
breathe at all. I kept manipulating my throat desperately trying to get air in.
I couldn’t speak so was unable to call out to anyone that I was having a
problem. I tried to control the rising panic, aware that this would not help.
By the time I reached the road I had managed to
bring my breathing back down to panting. All I now had to do was run for
approximately 4 miles along country lanes. Kev gave me a bottle of water to
have a couple of glugs from and a snickers bar to eat on the way. I had been
feeling sick for most of the endurance course, and was expecting to see lunch
again. I had a tiny bite of the snickers but this only increased the nausea, so
I ran the whole way back holding it as it gradually melted.
During the run back Monty received several phone calls, and he answered each one with ‘hello mate, you’ll never believe it but I’m in the middle of running the Commando endurance course’.
Monty kept asking after my shins and I had expected
this part of the weekend to see me off, but I couldn’t feel anything so just kept
running. As I crossed the finish line I dropped my weight and it was then I
realised how in bits I was. I couldn’t stand still, or even upright, and just
started spinning. Monty sat me down and gave me water. I sank about 2 litres
straight off and promptly burst into tears.
I went into the pavilion to change and started
throwing up. Aware that I was throwing up my much needed water, I tried to stop
myself. It was a few hours before I felt right again. It had been emotional.
As Kelly Holmes had run back her wet trousers had
flapped all over the place and even started to fall down, and she had effed her
blinded her way through four miles about what she was going to do with her
trousers when she got back.
We returned to the grots and had a much needed hot
shower that actually makes your aching muscles and cuts and grazes sting
furiously. And as the water was so soft that it took several minutes for soap
and shampoo to wash off, there was plenty of time for this stinging.
Day 1 was finished, and as a group we were already
deeply proud of ourselves.
Several people had passed both events, by seconds in
some cases. Tom Daly unfortunately missed the endurance course time by 2
minutes.
We also compared injuries and applied large amounts
of lotions and potions promising to make us feel better. Kelly Holmes had a
rather marvellous knee swelling about the size of a golf ball.
On our return Tom Daly also asked me what I did
about my nipples. I advised him that as I wore a sports bra, this solved all
nipple rub problems, and the T-shirts just rubbed over the bra. I told him he
was welcome to borrow one of my bras, but I think he, and the other chaps, just
opted for taping their nipples.
It was also at this point that Kelly Holmes
discovered the soles of her boots were collapsing and crumbling. The rest of us
were only concerned about getting them dry for the next day.
That evening the instructor’s decided to go ashore
(drive into town) for a few drinks. Tom Daly, Colin Jackson and Daly Thomson
went with them. They had discussed how to get there and back and eventually
decided to drive down and either get a taxi back or sleep over in the wagon.
Steve Redgrave resisted the temptation to go and
explained the problem of drinking with Keith. Basically, you each get a pint
and before yours has reached your lips Keith has finished his. Keith then
offers to buy you another, and you can’t really say no and expect to maintain
any respect at all. So before you know it, you have one and half pints in front
of you. Keith then downs the second one with equal rapidity and then it’s your
round.
In hindsight Steve Redgrave should perhaps not have
told Keith that Daly Thomson is wrecked after one pint.
The rest of us lounged around Kev’s grot watching
videos, or in my case, gently dozing. Christopher Dean popped out to buy a
couple of bars of chocolate and returned with about three bulging supermarket
bags. Steve Redgrave was tempted to have a particularly vicious dump in the
instructor’s grot – but unfortunately someone had beaten him to it rendering
him unable to perform.
That evening apparently Daly Thomson trapped (pulled)
beyond the call of duty. Monty told us the next day that a middle aged woman
had dragged him off and snogged him viciously – which he seemed rather pleased
with. He even trapped in the taxi queue.
Later that night Kelly Holmes was awoken by a dark
figure in the doorway – and informed a drunken Daly Thomson that yet again, he
was in the wrong block.
The following morning as Tom Daly, Kelly Holmes and
I wandered down to breakfast we saw Daly Thomson running up the hill with 2
breakfasts.
It seemed that at some point during the previous
evening a ridiculous bet had been devised whereby Daly Thomson had been given a
completely impossible task which, if he was unable to do meant that as a
forfeit he had to take breakfast to Kev and Keith. What Daly Thomson didn’t
know is that Kev and Keith had completely forgotten about it.
Over the weekend several units had come to
Okehampton camp and Daly Thomson had not enjoyed taking the breakfast passed
all of them. He never returned for his own scran, and just went back to bed.
Monty that morning looked like a man who had
foolishly tried to keep up with Keith on a night out.
That day was a relaxed day, with the exception of a
nine mile run. Monty’s briefing for this was quite simple ‘chaps, you’re going
to run nine miles’.
That morning we were also given the route for the 30
miler and spent the time before the nine miler planning our routes.
After lunch we set off merrily for the nine miler.
Monty had a rather nasty headache and hoped that a
nine mile run would be just what he needed to sort it out.
Kelly Holmes and I ran separately from the group,
knowing full well that we would not keep up. We instead ran it accompanied by
Mat – who talked incessantly the whole way, which did actually help take your
mind off what we were doing. My shins hurt in the first couple of miles but
eased off once we had started to get into the run.
While Kelly Holmes and I trundled along, listening
to Mat’s truly awful jokes, the group at the front were having an interesting
time. Part of the nine mile route included a rather persistent, long uphill, followed
by a diversion through leafy lane at the top of the endurance course (to avoid
running along a busy main road). There was a water stop at the end of leafy
lane. Christopher Dean – who had dropped back a little, sprinted along leafy
lane to catch up, knowing he would be able to stop for a few seconds at the end
and have something to drink. However, as soon as he arrived at the stop, Monty
started the group off again. At this point Monty realised that they were 3
minutes behind. The remainder of the run was downhill, and Monty said to forget
double march, just keep up with him and you’ll make the time, and proceeded to
sprint off down the hill.
At this point Kev in the safety vehicle watched
people start to straggle as limbs flew left, right and centre and the
regimental march of steps all came to pieces. Jonathan Edwards started gurning
groans in time with the running steps to try and maintain some sort of rhythm.
Most of us now run with a continual count of one, two, three, four in our
heads.
As Kelly Holmes and I came through leafy lane her
damaged boots were starting to make her feet horrendously painful and she
started effing and blinding about the boots and what she was going to do with
them. I though Mat would fall in the mud with laughing.
As I ran in from the nine miler, Steve Redgrave felt
the need to capture the moment on video, so I attempted a sprint finish. As Kelly
Holmes came in Mat and Keith walked beside her, while she ran.
Tom Daly again missed the time by 2 minutes and I
wondered whether he would do the 30 miler in 8 hours and 2 minutes.
Steve Redgrave also did a video interview with Colin
Jackson, in which he expressed concern about the hygiene of the endurance
course, and commented on the quality of the meals, but also mentioned that he
had had a word with Fortnum’s in respect of this.
On the way back Monty realised that he had told
Keith all his stories, and would probably now starting telling Keith’s back to
him, so the journey back was in virtual silence.
On our return to camp Christopher Dean snuck out to
re-take the assault course – which he passed. His delight at being able to tell
his fellow rubber daggers (Royal Marine Reserves) that he had passed all the
tests so far was slightly dampened by the news that Sally Gunnell had already
texted Steve Cram with news of Christopher Dean’s assault course fail, and Steve
Cram had passed this news on to the whole of Christopher Dean’s unit.
Over dinner I was at a table with Tom Daly, Kelly
Holmes, Sally Gunnell and Christopher Dean. We discussed Sally Gunnell’s dinner
(seaweed, some sort of sprout thing and other unmentionables) and Tom Daly’s
worms (that’s worms in a wormery to consume vegetable waste and make compost as
opposed to any other sort of worm). Apparently they are delivered by mail order
and the box states quite clearly that it contains live worms – and Tom Daly did
not have the decency to be in when the package was sent, so his neighbour took
delivery of it. Christopher Dean involuntarily winced more often than can be
good for you.
Many other subjects were also covered, and by the
end Christopher Dean told us that the weekend would result in his having two
weeks of physiotherapy and four years of counselling.
According to my briefing notes the third day started
as follows:
4.30am Up
5.00am Scran5.15am Depart
6.00am First team sets off on 30 miler
In the event the first team, which was Kelly Holmes
and I, accompanied by Dids (previous years challenger, who had come to help
out), set off at 6.30am.
In order to limit blister damage I had taped up my
feet well enough to make an Egyptian mummifier green with envy.
We, and many other teams, managed to walk about a
mile in a complete circle towards the beginning, showing utterly appalling
navigational skills. Then Kelly Holmes managed to attract a flock of sheep that
started to follow her, and may well have ended up doing the 30 miler. It would
have been hard to explain to the farmer why his sheep were now so far away. But
they realised in time the folly of their actions.
Yomping up hills and very little down hills, through
marshes and along rocky tracks ultimately took the final toll on Kelly Holmes’s
ankles and my shins. Kelly Holmes spent large amounts of time mumbling to
herself and hitting her head with her hand. Dids and I kept looking at each
other, wondering if she was alright. As we came up to Okehampton camp – just
short of half way – we agreed to call it a day. We were both totally happy with
this decision. We had been going for about 6 hours, were knackered and for my
part, was now in a lot of pain. I hadn’t expected my shins to last this long
and was therefore already feeling an enormous sense of achievement. We also
both agreed that it did not mean enough to us to continue and cope with the
condition we would have been in at the end – which would have been extremely
messy. Kelly Holmes had been close to tears on the marshes and I had been close
to tears as we came off the moor onto the road to be collected by Monty.
The pain was starting to kick in. Dids went off to
get a signal on his phone while Kelly Holmes and I put on lots of clothes and
snuggled up under a poncho. Having collapsed on Dartmoor unconscious and
hypothermic only a few months earlier I was very aware of such precautions.
Monty arrived in the landrover and insisted on
taking a picture of the ‘satisfied customers’ in this amusing situation before
giving us a lift back to camp.
On the way back we found out that Colin Jackson had
also come out at the Okehampton RV, his decision being along very similar lines
to that made by Kelly Holmes and I.
As Tom Daly had the key to our grot we went to the
instructor’s one and watched videos, slept and ate our packed lunch. While
there Keith and Sebastian Coe came back. Keith was hugely impressed with Tom
Daly, saying that he just got stronger and stronger at each checkpoint, and
they were so impressed that they would both vote Green from now on.
We also heard the Steve Redgrave was in a bit of a
state and quite angry. Part of their route had been fenced off and rather than
just kick down the fence and worry about it later, they had lost their mind to
such an extent that they scaled a cliff to get round. With 30lbs on your back,
that probably isn’t sensible.
One of the grid references we had been given was one
digit out, putting the RV in the middle of a reservoir. However, Monty had said
in the briefing that the RV at that grid reference was the middle of the dam
over the reservoir. Therefore most people adjusted the RV accordingly. Except Daly
Thomson. Daly Thomson was convinced that the RV was in the middle of the
reservoir and was on the verge of swimming out to it. Daly Thomson in fact did
not look at or touch a map during the 30 miler – except once when Kev asked him
to point out where he was, and it seems he hadn’t a clue.
Later that afternoon, as the weather was turning,
they all arrived at the finish - to the welcome relief of Monty and the doctor
who had been in attendance all day.
We staggered to our grots to shower, change, compare
blisters and have a couple of beers. I didn’t realise then that both my little
toes were huge blisters.
Over dinner various awards were given out. These
were as follows:
Most sustained instance of flashing. Flashing is
extreme bad temper, which uses up considerable quantities of calories. The
winner broke all previous records held for flashing by maintaining his for 10
hours – and that man was, as Monty so well described him, the Tasmanian devil Steve
Redgrave. His prize was a complete set of condiments, which he thereafter
referred to as his rage pack. He still looked like a man aggrieved due to his
incredibly red face due to range shward (spelt phonetically).
There was also a prize for manking. This is less
energetic bad temper than flashing and generally involves lots of mumbling, talking
to self, swear words and banging of hand on head. This of course went to Kelly
Holmes, and was a full matching set of light, easy to carry plastic cutlery.
The next prize was for the dispersion of DNA in
Okehampton that would be appreciated by generations to come, as well as the
person who had the most bewildered expression for the whole weekend. This award
of course went to Daly Thomson, and was a pair of yellow rubber gloves.
Mat’s prize went to the person who had managed to
achieve an enormous amount bearing in mind what they ate. The winner had to be Sally
Gunnell, and she was given a meal prepared by Mat that consisted of sheep crap
in a burger bun, with sheep crap on the side – all good, natural, organic
stuff. Apparently, after returning the food to nature, Mat actually ate the
burger bun.
The final award was given by Kev and was for the
person who had kept a smile on their face and maintained a good attitude
throughout the weekend. It went to Jonathan Edwards who had to eat a popodom as
fast as he could. He smiled throughout the test, and managed in scoff it in
well under a minute.
This was followed by a game apparently played by all
marines after getting their green berets. It is too complicated to explain
here, but basically you do not want to be the last person left playing or you
get the pleasure of drinking a fizzy orange drink through a sock kindly donated
by Christopher Dean that he had been wearing all day.
Tom Daly ultimately had the pleasure, and downed the
drink most bravely.
Monty asked if we would recommend the Challenge to
anyone else. ‘Oh yes’, said Jonathan Edwards, ‘I would recommend to someone I
didn’t like’.
We retired to the NAAFI for a few well earned beers
and more tales from Monty, while Daly Thomson went out with the girl he had trapped
in the taxi queue – called Steve Redgrave.
We also discussed the course and what we though of
it. It was generally agreed that having weekly commando challenge style
sessions in Hyde Park was a good thing for those of the group who wanted to
maintain this level of fitness, and also for potential new challengers to know
what the course involved.
I did not spend another night at the grots, as my
other half had most generously driven all the way down and booked a room in a
superb, comfortable hotel for the night, four-poster bed included, with a very
late breakfast.
It seems that Monty will not be doing another
Commando Challenge. Several weeks earlier he had told us that he would keep
doing them until he pulled, so it does rather beg the question – has he, and if
so, with who?
