
Bernie has completed 2,100km for bibic!
Tuesday morning, and this is it. All I had to do was just get up and row 10 Kilometres. 0540 Hrs and my alarm sounds the same, the darkness, and my bung bed surroundings, have now become uncomfortably familiar. I must be due a flight home by now?
So, for the hundred and second time I do indeed get up. Gym kit on, trainers on, all ready to go. Outside the weather remains ‘seasonal’, cold but dry, with the threat of rain. Once in the gym the usual crowd are there. To everyone else, the world seems to carry on as if this is the norm. This is what we do. Fitness training, work for the day, maybe a bit more fitness, dinner then bed.
For me though this really is a day with a difference. The end. The end of my Lands End to John O’Groats and back to Dishforth run and row challenge. As I start to row I contemplate taking my time for this last stretch, enjoy the moment. Or, shall I ‘go mad’ and see if I can row 10 Km faster that I have ever done before. I settle on my first idea. I just need to finish without breaking myself. During this row I just contemplate what it is I have done and for what reasons.
Yes, it has been a very good way to get fit. I have lost over one and a half stone in weight and increased my stamina no end. I have met a fair few people along the way, who have taken the time to stop and say, ‘Hello, I see you here every day.’ I then think of the bigger reason I chose to do this. I wanted to prove something to myself, and maybe to some of my working colleagues, that I am able to complete what I have started, no matter just how daft it of seemed at the outset. I can now push myself a bit further than I ever thought I could, and for longer. But, who could I of chosen to do this for? I have known about bibic for at least eighteen years. What better cause could I wish for?
Just how did I come across bibic? After joining the Royal Navy in September 1989 and completing my basic training at HMS Raleigh near Plymouth I joined The Fleet Air Arm. I only wanted to ever work on Sea Harrier aircraft, and with my parents living in Elmore Back, Gloucestershire, my logical choice was HMS Heron, otherwise known as RNAS Yeovilton, in Somerset. The closest venue to home and the aircraft I wanted? Now not many people get to be so happy with their working life. My week would consist of an early Monday morning drive, from Gloucester, down to Yeovilton. Getting off the M5, signposted Glastonbury, at junction 23, I knew I had about twenty minutes left before I was at work. After leaving the motorway behind, and driving down a sloping hillside, the first junction I come to is a ‘T’ junction at a village called Knowle. Here I would turn left and head off across the beautiful rural Somerset countryside.
On the edge of this junction is a lovely big house. To look at, it could very well be a country mansion for someone, the grounds are well groomed, and the house itself seems so inviting. I always wanted to stop, knock on this total stranger’s door and say hello. Towards the front gate there is a sign, and this reveales the identity of the house. bibic-Changing Children’s Lifes. I never knew then exactly what they stand for, nor the work they do. I just seemed to want to look and admire the view. This very same view I would again see on a Friday afternoon as I reversed my journey, heading home again once more to my parent’s family home. Once I married my long-term girlfriend, Sally, whom I have known since leaving school, we moved to Somerset. Various villages, at various times of my naval carer, we have lived in Somerset. Yet it seemed that no matter where we were, travelling back to Gloucester always took us via Knowle and that ‘T’ junction. I would always look at the house, looking for change, but only sensing the constant, positive, inviting vibes that this building exudes.
Not once have I ever stopped, changed direction and driven up the driveway to this majestic house. What lies beyond the front door I have never experienced, I just drive onwards to my destination. Maybe pretending I am too busy to stop, or perhaps not wanting to ‘burst the bubble’ of my perception towards this establishment. I just never visited.
As my career moved on and I had to leave Somerset behind, I never thought I would be able to find out a bit more about bibic and what they stand for, or who it is they help. So as soon as I realised I had an excellent opportunity to do something, for someone/somewhere, it could only be for bibic. Maybe the next time I visit Somerset, I shall turn off, make the time, and knock on that now, not so much of a stranger’s door.
The 10 Kms had now clicked into view on the Concept2 rower. My distance covered, my challenge completed. Everyone else continued on their way and in their own world. Unaware of what I had done, or how I felt. It did feel quite surreal. 2100 Kilometres in 102 days, that had been enough. But then, what now? What comes next in my life?
I had already decided I would undertake one more challenge whilst here in Afghanistan. I just had to wait for tomorrow to arrive.
Wednesday morning duly arrived. No alarm clock at 0540, today it was set for 0715. Breakfast consisted of 2 slices of toast, topped with bacon and scrambled egg, lots of it. I knew I would miss lunch and this meal had to provide enough energy to see me through. Already I felt nervous toward the task ahead.
Why would I start again after finishing one challenge only the day before? I guess it was because I had time on my hands and wanted to ensure I made the most of this opportunity. Outside the main Camp Bastion dining hall at 1040, I started once more. All I had to do was row, until I wanted to just climb off the darn machine, then, somehow keep on rowing through the sore muscles, which would no doubt come my way.
I had set the time and venue to coincide with lunchtime at the dining hall. With only twenty minutes until lunch, people were soon walking by, queuing up to get into the hall. Some stopped to read, and ask what I was doing. It was easy, 50 Kms in under four hours, I was enjoying talking as I rowed. I could see people starting to put some dollars into the bucket. Already my efforts for today were all worthwhile. Anything else would be a bonus. I just had to press on now and focus on rowing.
More and more people filtered past. I would now engage them in chatter, encouraging them to take one of the tear off strips I had printed. These gave them my just giving address, by where they could donate at a later time. I thought any publicity has to be good. The kilometres clicked over quite well as did the time. I knew I would beat the deadline of four hours, it was just a case of could I continue rowing to 50 Kms? An hour and a half past and I was passing 21 Kms. This was rapidly approaching a greater challenge than I had given it credit for. I had not rowed past 22 Kms before. More and more people were coming past on their way to dinner. Some of my work colleagues had also passed by, saying hello, donating and asking could they get me anything. Money was still going into the bucket. This was proving to be very worthwhile.
After two hours I had covered over 28 Kms. This was hurting now. My fingers were aching, especially the top knuckle joint. I had to keep moving my hands, changing my grip as I rowed. People still walking by, some who had been into lunch were coming out and donating as they left. I tried to thank each and everyone, but I was starting to just concentrate on rowing. Talking had become a bit of a chore. People were asking how far had I covered, how far had I felt to do, what was my time? My mind just could not work out the answers. My mind concentrated instead on the distance to go, not a lot else.
Two hours thirty minutes and this ‘good idea’ was suddenly not feeling as if it had been so well thought out after all. My distance had now easily passed the 35 Kms mark, but the pace was slowing. More people were now leaving than walking into lunch. Trade was being to slow down. A good friend of mine came by, Brian. He looked at the bucket and said it had filled up rather well and he had to poke the dollars down to make more room. I was just happy to of generated this amount of interest.
Over three hours had now passed and I really wanted to just get off now. There was no enjoyment left, this was just a pain. A pain from my lower legs all the way to my finger tips. I now rowed on first one buttock, then the other, just trying to relieve the aching muscles for as long as I could. My head had dropped, and I was failing to register people walking by. I wanted to just finish this challenge. Eventually, with lads from work beside me, to help me along the last couple of kilometres, I pasted through the 50 Kilometres. The monitor registered a finish time of three hours, thirty-seven minutes and forty-three seconds. I had reached the end of a very tiring challenge.
These two events have really made my tour, here in Afghanistan something to remember. I never thought I would of met and made so many friends along the way, nor rediscovered a bestest friend from old. I never wanted for a partner to run with, someone would always volunteer to be there for me to keep me company. To of been pushed out of my comfort zone to achieve these goals will prove to be very memorable for years to come.
I thank each and everyone who donated to bibic. This will, as a result, help them to continue their wonderful work. So far my first challenge has raised over four hundred pound, and as for the second? 590 dollars, for just over three and a half hours effort. Now that’s not bad for a day at work!
Good luck to you all.
The very kindest of regards,
Bernie Heaysman.