Another dose of reality (4) - A heart melted; a tear spilled; an anger fuelled.

A picture paints a thousand words; that's what they say don't they? What that statement can't prepare you for though is a roller-coaster of emotion that might ensue from a photo like the one below.

1a. An Update (of sorts); early November.

That is the lovely Florence. I'm not going to say much about her, even though there is SO MUCH to say, but she's captured so sweetly in this late night/early morning photo by her Dad. It melts my heart whilst filling my eyes with the soft tears of sadness and a feeling of total helplessness and last week, when I spent some time with her Dad (Jay), I've never been so stuck for words.

At this very moment her wonderful parents continue to go through a personal hell, and this beautiful little 2-year old knows nothing of the angst and pain and terrible dilemma her loving parents face every single day.

When I saw her last Sunday, she was having her 7th and penultimate round of chemo. A treatment so toxic to the human body that no-one is allowed more than 8 rounds of it. A treatment that is helping to fight the cancer, but it's simply not fighting it enough.

Watching her; bright yet shy in front of this stranger (me); recalling the recent visit of a puppeteer to the Royal Marsden Hospital with both animated actions and enthusiasm in her voice as she jumped around .... well, she appears just a normal 2-year old, with a deep love of the Disney film 'Frozen', but with a pipe up her nose.

And yet everyone I talk to about this 'normal 2-year old' is reduced to tears. Everyone I talk to about her goes home and gives their children an extra long hug; even though so few of us know anything of what life is like with cancer.

People like Jo Austin know; folks like Frances Shaw know, and I'm sure a couple of other readers know but so many of us ... SO MANY can count our lucky stars that we don't know. And long may it stay that way.

1b. An Update (of sorts); mid-November.

The above was written just after I visited them all on the 1st and 2nd of November.  When I saw them, they had just received a letter from a Kings College liver cancer specialist, asking if Kings could do a scan of their own on Florence (evidently they'd used the Royal Marsden scans to diagnose that there was probably nothing they could do).

Florence was duly taken to London on the 6th November, to see if this was hope, rather than another seemingly cruel offer of hope that would turn into nothing. She spent the night there with her Mum, and the following weekend in another hospital, facing a transfusion to try to fight off a worryingly high temperature.

This morning, sat in an office in Manchester, I had tears in my eyes as I read an update Kerry had just posted on Facebook. 

They had met a professor last week who had offered them the chance of surgery for Florence, and they agreed to a gruelling 4-hour operation to try to remove the tumour on her liver. Whilst they were told of the risks and that this was just a small step in a very long journey, it provides them with hope.

 

This amazing little girl fights on and, for her family, it offers hope where no obvious hope existed just a couple of weeks ago. Even now I'm crying gently at the events that have unfolded. Go Florrie go; you can beat this, supported by the thoughts & prayers for you from literally hundreds of people!!


2. An adventure fuelled by hatred

After seeing Jay (Saturday) and Kerry & Florence (Sunday morning), I had the good fortune to head deep into East London; to near the Isle of Dogs. I was meeting 4 of the people who'd signed-up to join in on my latest adventure, and to try out a boat for the first time ever.

These 5 fine athletic <coughs> gentlemen <coughs even louder> are part of the 24+ who have signed-up to take part in the 100km row on the River Thames in May 2015.

Two travelling from within London; one from Brighton, and Jon (who came down from Leeds that morning, especially for the trial row) arrived at the AHOY Centre brimming with excitement, and not without a little bit of trepidation. We'd all contributed to the cost of an experienced coxswain and a safety boat to help us through our first ever 90 minutes rowing on the Thames - something which we'd be doing for about 20 hours next May, such is the scale of the challenge.

The plan was that we'd head out onto the Thames and help us understand the scale of not just the distance and the 'terrain', but to demonstrate to us all that we were about as co-ordinated as Bambi's legs on ice. It was also (so we found out later) a chance for Sarah to assess whether this group of scallies were even likely to get 10 metres, let alone 100 000m.

Only I had had the briefest of experience rowing (and that was as part of a team who rowed 10 miles for charity on Lake Windermere last summer). Anthony, Stuart and Stan were models of power and athleticism, and Jon had a history of rowing (and losing some serious weight) through regular intense Concept 2 activity. I had prepared by doing 20 miles on a Concept 2 (as well as having a reputation of just being a stubborn so-and-so when it came to putting my head down and slogging things out until we got to the end).

We know that the route we'll be taking on the bank holiday weekend will take us out to the mouth of the estuary, then back passed the O2 arena, under Tower Bridge; up to Richmond Park and then we'll turn round one more time and finish outside the Houses of Parliament.

 

And so, after being told about the boat; informed what to do if we 'caught a crab' (which we were told we were all likely to do) and some more on-land advice and tuition, Sarah said we were ready to head out to the boat (some one hundred yards off-shore). The safety boat pulled as close to the shore as possible and we all climbed in.

The swell of the tide and the bow waves of passing high-speed boats took me by surprise a little, as did the unease at being sat on the side of a dinghy, but the boat was remarkably stable despite the swell, and I was the final one to transfer into our rowing boat.

The first thing I think we all noticed was that the oar we each had was simply huge. None of this Sir Steve Redgrave nonsense; no, these boats and their industrial oars are modelled on those used to shuttle people across the Thames in the last century, and to row out to the middle of the English Channel and back this century.

The rowing - and the synchronised element of the rowing - started well; failing us only when people either forgot to follow my lead (I'd been put as point in the boat, so we all rowed in time with my efforts) or (as Anthony summarised perfectly later) when one or more of us thought too deeply about what we were supposed to be doing with or legs, torso, arms and the oars.

It's a bizarre balance to strike; think too much about what you're doing and something will go wrong, but don't think enough about it and something will go wrong too. Thankfully we seemed to coping pretty well, until there was a clunk, a yelp and the boat shook ever so slightly. Jon had caught a crab.

As each of us found out on this trial row, 'catching a crab' is a term used for the poor sod who fails to lift his oar out of the water fully; it catches on the swell and then sweeps backwards into your chest, knocking you backwards off your bench. Jon however had actually caught a crab AND grown an egg. With no-one behind him to break his fall, he absolutely leathered the bench behind him with his skull and had two lumps within seconds.

This only shows half the width of the Thames. It is huge when you're actually on it.

Anyway, the good news is (apart from the fact that Jon dragged himself back up and carried on rowing) that we survived; we enjoyed our first experience in the boat, and we found out 2 days later that we'd been assessed as wholly capable of undertaking the challenge. 

And so it was time to head back up north. I had offered Jon a lift, as he lives in the same town I do, which was rather a good choice by me, as not only did Jon buy coffee and nosh on the way back, but he was also dab-hand at changing tyres once one of mine had burst at 70mph on the A1.

Oops - now that's a blow-out.

3. Time to stop typing; time to get training.

And so now, with only 24 weeks to go, I am grateful that I can feel the anger rising inside me from time-to-time. An anger that will fuel my desire to train; a rage that will see me row until my shoulders ache and my chest feels like it's permanently concave.

Why? Because I know I can do this. I know I want to succeed and I know that I want to raise some money to help kick cancer's arse.

For Florence. For Kerry and Jay. For all those who have suffered through this terrible disease called cancer.

I've now met with the head of the new multi-£million Leeds Rowing Club Centre, not 10 minutes drive from my house. He's already promised to help in whatever way they can, and so this other group of trainee rowers met there yesterday, to say hello to each other; to ask questions and share ideas .... and soon to get in a boat and onto the water.

David (the head honcho) and the lovely Rosie (who is seriously good at rowing, and thinks we're bonkers)

Ethan, Chris, Gareth, me and Jon at the rowing centre.

Thank you Mark Bowness at beyond , for once again supporting my challenges with coverage in your magazine

Another Jon (this could get confusing); he's just got himself a Concept 2 rowing machine and a team of 5 other rowers to join in. Sadly I can't print the suggested name for his team as it's not past the 9 o'clock watershed yet.

So I now only have 4 things to say dear reader, and then you can get on with your day/evening/weekend (depending when you read this):

1. If you want to know more, because you just might want to join in for both days, or get 12 people so you can row a day each, please get in touch.

2. If you want to go #ontheflag3, it will be £50 to put your company logo or the photograph of a loved one onto it. Please note that £42 will be split equally between the 3 charities I'm fund-raising for, and £8 goes towards the design, logo collation and production of the 'flag' (which this time will be a very durable material, to withstand all weathers for up to 20 hours).

3. If you have no idea what we've let ourselves in for, try this simple exercise next time you're at a gym. Go on a rowing machine; set the damper to 5 (not 10), and complete 2000m on the rower in 10 minutes - take a 2 minute break and do another 2000m in 10 minutes - take a second 2 minute break and then do another 2000m in 10 minutes. After that imagine doing that 10 times one day and 7 times the next day.

If you love it, see point 1 above. If you hate it, think about point 2 above. And if you know of someone who has suffered through or is suffering through cancer right now; remember I'm thinking of you and I'm not only #RowingForFlorence, but for everyone who faces and will face cancer.

4. If you don't want to row, we'd LOVE to see you on the banks of the Thames, cheering us on. Even if you can only spare an hour or two - it will feed our passion and ease those burning muscles to know you're there.

Right, let's bring this on! 

There are none so blind .... and the launch of the short film #undertow

Time and memories; they're a strange combination.

Hard to imagine that this time last week I was reflecting on one of the most humbling 90 minutes of my life, and it's all because of a young man called Lewis Holden; the 19-year old son of my dear friend and 'honorary sister', Sam Holden.

Ninety minutes of hearing about what 'life' means for some people; ninety minutes of not wishing to interrupt, and ninety minutes that contained the most objective, balanced and mature recollection of human suffering and degrading that echoed lessons from history. 

I've had meetings with people who know they are suffering a lingering and painful death; people who have hushed a room of rowdy wanna-be actresses and media luvvies, busy quaffing free champagne, by revealing they have been diagnosed with cancer again; and I've seen what cancer had done to my father, after it finally took his life having ravaged his body and mind .... but this ... THIS ... was on a different level altogether. 

I have no intention of making any social or political statements via this blog or my challenges, ever (in fact I declined to work with one charity in 2013 because of its political overtone), but the way the story was told, I went through the paradox of aching to help and yet feeling simply helpless when Lewis had finished talking.

And when Sam innocently and genuinely asked "So what's your next big challenge Geoff?", I pretty much dismissed the question as wholly insignificant.

Of course it's not insignificant and of course I'm proud of how I challenge myself for the benefit of others, but it is important to keep things in perspective. Again.

I look forward to sharing Lewis's blog entries when he's published them; at which point you can make your own decisions; come to your own conclusions. Until then, I'll just reflect on what I can do to try to help make a difference.


1. The trial of The Longest Day

After a LOT of discussion and debate (and tons of effort and patience by the wonderful Michelle) I'm both thrilled and relieved to announce that the trial of The Longest Day will be taking place on Thursday 9th October, with the support of the wonderful charity Henshaws.

I took a day off work last week to complete a number of things; not least to visit the Lisa of Henshaws, at their specialist Arts & Crafts facility. After a walk around a great facility, I'm pleased to say the plans just came together.

It's been a difficult challenge to get off the ground, with Henshaws stepping in and coming to the rescue this year. So now we're almost ready!

I'm looking for up to another 14 pairs to commit to taking part in the event, at £50 per active person and £25 for your trusted guide (with all costs covered AND a £10 donation to Henshaws). You'll be catching a train; making some art; eating; buying, writing and posting a postcard, and everyone will get a go at playing 'blind bowling'.

There will be an entry soon on Eventbrite for those wishing to take part to pay their fee (and if you decide to fundraise for Henshaws as part of the event, if you raise over £200 your 'guide' gets their money back; if it's over £300 you both get your money back.

So who's joining in???  

Certainly at the Buy Yorkshire Conference earlier this year it created a lot of interest.

If, like Francis in the bottom photo, you expressed an interest, I'll be getting in touch very soon! I also need to contact the Yorkshire Evening Post as the experience could make some great reading for those who have never really thought about sight loss (except perhaps when, like me, you turn off all the lights as you go to bed, and then accidentally take the skin off your toe as you walk into the corner of a table leg).

Here's hoping this trial really does turn into a national event by the year 2020.


2. On yer bike (it's the Alternative Tour de France event).

Keith Appleyard and Bev Hodgson are dedicated supporters of Yorkshire Cancer and Pancreatic Cancer Action respectively. It was just over 6 months ago that we met, to talk about the village of Addingham's preparations for the Tour de France (which would pass through the village on both the Saturday and the Sunday).

I'd first met Bev the summer before, to talk through a pre-Christmas 12-hour non-stop cycling event in Manchester, in aid of Pancreatic Cancer Action; an event which subsequently raised over £4000.

We used the 5-seater bike in Manchester; November 2013

The event was so much fun, and so successful, that Bev didn't hesitate to recommend me and the 7-seat bike to take part in a fundraising event in association with Le Tour weekend. I'll not talk too much about the weekend other than to say it too raised £4000.

Enjoy the photos below, and especially the video!

One of the time-trial teams trying to ....

..... get onto our Top Gear-style leaderboard

 

Then it was time to wait for the cyclists to come through.

Some people took whatever vantage point they could

Some look on knowing their work had only just started

For others it simply became too much

Then a bunch of blokes on bikes appeared (Day 1)

And then they were gone in less than a couple of minutes (Day 2), after which the serious bike riding started

 

Some took it very seriously .....

Some took it all in their stride .....

Others .... well, they just took it (see the Police in action, at speed, in the video below)

3. Coming up in 2015: My calendar of events


Balancing work (to earn money to pay the bills) and the effort involved in preparing for and undertaking challenges (to live life and feel amazing) is difficult; especially when a group of charities ask what your calendar of events is. Oh for a Lottery jackpot win or sponsorship.

Still, it does focus the mind, so here's the first event of the new year: 

The first bank holiday weekend in May: The 100-mile row on the River Thames.

After this years introduction to rowing, when a group of friends and I took over 150 minutes to row 10 miles on Lake Windermere, I decided that the only way to push myself was to take on something that I knew would be physically and mentally exhausting.

Coincidentally Clive Ongley; the CEO of the charity the AHOY Centre, had spoken to me earlier year to ask whether I thought he had a viable fundraising challenge, and could I help him bring it to life. That idea was a 100-mile row along the Thames in a 48 hours.

We discussed it over a number of emails, phone calls and weeks, until Clive finally confirmed that he had too much on his plate to commit to it. I did say however that I thought it would be a great challenge for me, so I set about finding 5 others who would 'man' the boat.

As it turned out, it was easy! Thanks to Twitter and Facebook, I already have a team of 6 and now just need to recruit (or hire) a coxswain willing to take us 100 miles up and down the Thames; two tri-athletes, two people with significant experience of rowing ... and two idiots (me included).

I filled a boat with willing idiots wanting to join me, so I immediately put pen to paper (or rather fingers to keyboard and printer ink into my KODAK C310) and wrote to Clive.

Training has started although we need to learn how to row as a team (once we all get our arms, chests and bums conditioned). Of course, it's a significant step up from the row on Windermere, but it still amazes me just how it pales into insignificance when compared to the cross-Atlantic challenge that the 4 ladies (known as the Yorkshire Rows) are undertaking in 16 months time. Just awe-inspiring!!


Since writing I've now probably got TWO boats full now ... with the aspiration to fill a third (and a fourth). If you're interested in joining in, tweet me, text me or drop me a line via a comment on here.

I'm doing it as a way of helping the brave little girl Florence, and her family, as well as all others going through the sad and draining fight against cancer. You, dear reader, can do it for whatever reason drives you to push yourself beyond the norm.

4. Happy 13th birthday

Last week saw the 13th anniversary of me leaving corporate employment and setting up BlueDucks Limited (yes, there IS intentionally no space between the words 'Blue' and 'Ducks').

As a gesture of thanks for my relative good fortune (because it's not always been an easy, fruitful and stress-free 13 years), I spent a few minutes reflecting on the highs and lows. The lows including the financial crash of 2009 and its effect on the market, but all that paled into insignificance compared to the first 6 months of being independent.

I'd launched the business full of promise and excitement on my part (having appeared in a business magazine with two other start-ups, to feature our early steps into independence; and me having 37 leads to follow-up), only for the horrific events on 9/11 to wipe away all opportunities.

October 2001: Wonder what happened to the other two start-ups?

Interesting reading and the reasons I set-up on my own are still true today. Just not sure whether I've fulfilled them yet.

What it did do though was remind me I have survived 13 years and I am grateful beyond belief; especially when you consider I could have given up in that first 6 months when all I billed for was £500 in the entire period. Thank you to a certain John Catling that he provided me with a small but wholly significant thread of hope. to keep the desire alive.

My first real invoice (despite it being referenced as BDL 00002)

 And so, with a smile of gratitude in my face I decided to celebrate. Nope, I didn't open a beer nor have a slice of cake ... (the latter being because my PT, Becci Skelton, would have battered me).

The brilliant Becci Skelton; the love-child of Wonder Woman and Thor

No, to celebrate I went on social media and posted the following message:

Within seconds, Suzanne had grabbed the first of the 13 cheques ... and the rest were nominated for within 30 minutes, so the above message lead to these photos:

First cheque written; 12 other charities nominated

Remaining 12 cheques written, ready to be posted one a month for the next 12 months.

You see, despite money being tight and life having so many other things demanding time, effort, money and/or emotional investment; I still believe that those who 'can', should!



5. And finally ....

And so I come to the end of this post with some wonderful memories clearly in my mind and plans to start new ones already well underway. Looking back the adventures have been a heady mixture of new experiences, amazing challenges, great fellow trek friends and proof to myself that I am capable of more than just stepping outside my comfort zone:

The great thing is there could be so much more to come. Certainly 2015 looks like it could be an amazing year with work, marriage to Lucia, and a series of exciting and exceptional adventures. And best of all? It helps other people through the challenges they face every single day.

It's also fun, as the following short video clips show. My first ever attempt at a handstand in my entire life; Anthony Lamoureux's teasing video that made me chuckle so much at the end with his cheesy thumbs-up, and Therese Charlton's failed attempt to re-capture her youth by doing a handstand - only to be interrupted by a customer.
 

 

And amongst it all, please remember (#1):

And (#2): New experiences can lead you into unknown and exciting adventures. New unknown destinations; new destinies unfold; new opportunities arise from new challenges.

I hope you enjoyed this extended blog, and I hope you'll enjoy the short film I was privileged to be part of, with the investment of 3 long, painful and scarring days of my time in May, wearing an extra 50kg of deep sea diver suit. Ladeeeez and gentlemen; I give you the OFFICIAL launch of the short film #undertow. Please click on the link below to launch the movie.

Undertow - a short film symbolising that, without struggle, we cannot get to where we want to be.

“The cure for anything is salt water - tears, sweat, or the sea.” - Isak Dinesen

Is fear a positive or negative thing? When is an action, or an inaction, equivalent to success or failure? Whilst this blog is about activity, it's underlying question is that of one thing:

Perspective: (def) a particular attitude towards or way of regarding something; a point of view.

Some of us have options about how we look at life; others don't have quite the same freedoms

I met with a guy called Phil Lee last week. I was on a day away from my corporate client and he was recently back from a weekend with his corporate client. I'd escaped from a desk in an office; he'd just got back from the Welsh hills. 

He told me about the incredible journey he's been through and I sat, listening in wonder. 

He told me about his ambition and desires for taking his life forward. I sat, listening in wonder. 

He asked me about what I hoped to do going forward. I sat, thought ..... and blabbered about stuff. 

It was then that something struck me, but we'll come back to the chat with Phil a little later, so let me quickly update you on the goings'-on since the last blog entry .... and update those of the 536 readers of the last blog who want to know how little Florence is doing.

1. Like salt water - Stoney Cove.

The photograph below is a quarry; intentionally flooded to make an inland diving centre of excellence. It was the location for my first ever attempt of going underwater.

Yes that's right; I've never scuba-dived, snorkeled and (as Bob 'the fish' Proctor knows so well) I don't even like sticking my head underwater when I'm swimming. As Bob will also probably say though, it's primarily about technique and then most definitely about the right mental attitude.

My interest in diving was piqued a couple of months ago when I spent 3 days in the suit, on dry land, being the anonymous central character in a short film entitled 'undertow'. I spent time in Leeds, Whitby, Otley Chevin, momentarily up to my thighs in the sea and yes, scaring sheep on a windswept hill.

The premiere of the film will be some time in the summer .... for the three of you interested enough to want to see it on Facebook and via Twitter. I'll keep you updated, but this entry isn't about me in the suit on dry land.

The diving suit we used in the film was provided by the Historical Diving Society, based in Chorley, and one key member of the Society offered me the chance to try the suit out for real. For real? Err so that means being totally submerged with an extra 50kg strapped to my body. "Oh what the hell" I thought, and accepted the offer.

I arrived at Stoney Cove and walked passed row upon row of cars and vans, brimming with scuba diving equipment. People bleeding air from used tanks (that's right ... I'm into the lingo) and taking off watches with faces bigger than a DVD, whilst some filled out diving logs. Down below I could see the Society, busy helping someone into their suits.

After re-introducing myself to the team, I was offered the chance to go 'next', so I sat down and let the guys who know how to make you entirely watertight do their thing.

And so, with two guys turning the wheels to ensure air was pumped into the suit, I took my first steps underwater. It was so surreal.

Having descended the ladder into the water, I turned and I don't know why, but I did not expect to see the floor of the quarry covered in large algae-covered rocks. Nor did I expect to see a sharp decline down into the semi-darkness. I froze as the fear I was facing tapped me on the shoulder and asked what the @&*% was I doing down here??

Movement was unwieldy and I was unsure if I dare move beyond the safety of the ladder. What if I couldn't get down the decline without slipping and ripping the suit? No-one could get down to help me get the suit off or pull me back to the surface. What if I couldn't get all the way back up the incline? 

For a couple of minutes I stood there, the ladder within arms reach (behind me) and fought the urge to go back up. I'd descended underwater and now stood like one of the statues at Museo Subacuático de Arte. I HAD to go down the incline, otherwise I'd probably look and certainly feel like a complete failure!

Slowly, very very slowly, I lifted each 10kg boot, one at a time, and edged down the slope. As I got halfway down I stopped as a 'school' of scuba divers were swimming by. Like a goofy tourist, pleased with his new found skills, I gave one of them a thumbs up and smiled like a dimwit. He (or she) glanced up, stared at me for a couple of seconds, and simply swam on.

I realised I was an intruder in their world; a total amateur and probably wasn't taking the dangers of underwater 'diving' as seriously as I should ... so I gritted my teeth and strode forward down the slope, to the level bottom. The mix of determination and the fleeting confidence in my own abilities stayed with me for a few more minutes, before I remembered I had to get back up the slope and climb out.

I could have walked another 100m before I came to the edge of this level (thereafter it dropped another 15m in depth), but I felt I had conquered my fear and, having done it once, I was sure I could do it again. One day.

And so I clomped slowly back up the ladder, feeling the full force of gravity on the extra 50kg I was wearing, and gratefully flopped down on the divers stool. What I couldn't decide was whether the dive had been a success or a failure ... and I'm still not sure.

2. Sweat - Rowing on Lake Windermere

A couple of months ago I put a post onto Facebook, looking for 6 pople to join me and make a 7-person team to row 10 miles on Lake Windermere, in support of St Gemma's Hospice. The response was almost immediate and so, two weeks after the diving experience I drove up to get ready for the mini-adventure.

The next morning the team gathered, arriving from either local hotels or driving north from Yorkshire; say hello to Team 'Are We There Yet?'.

None of us had rowed before, which (I think) is why it was such an exciting challenge. It's at this point that I have to acknowledge the bravery of one of the team - Michelle Wise - who arrived with partner Steve, and was having serious doubts whether the row was a good idea.

Another member of the team, Geoff Shepherd, giving it a well 'ard selfie before we boarded the boat

If ever a person faced their fears that day, Michelle did. As part of the row there were 4 rowing positions, one rudder manager and two interim passengers; this meant that at some point in the middle of the lake we had to swap rowers. As it was we did that twice and Michelle (despite her hands shaking with nerves as she swapped places twice en route) played just as much a part in the physical and mental challenge that rowing gave us as anyone else did

Looking as calm as a cucumber, as ready as a female Matthew Pinsent, and soooooo courageous

 

Hold on, are Becky and I rowing while Chris and Geoff S have a chat? Bloody back seat drivers.

In my opinion the rowing was a success, and St Gemma's will have received about £1000 from our efforts once all the monies are collected. It's also surprising where desire and inspiration can come from, but the rowing has ignited an interest in me; an interest in possibly completing a 100-mile endurance row over a weekend, with a team of people. I'm glad to say Chris Greer has expressed an initial interest .... please form an orderly queue folks if you want to know more.

3. Tears? An update on Florence

If you follow me on Facebook you'll have seen pretty little Florence Leppard smiling from her hospital bed on a couple of occasions. One photo had her fast asleep, blissfully unaware and hopefully dreaming of happier things, and another was of her sat in the garden, enjoying some summer sunshine.

If you follow me on Facebook you'll probably also have seen the news that she and her parents spent an emotionally draining few days in hospital with her between chemo sessions, as she had a high temperature. I can also tell you Florrie came out of hospital a week ago, after her 2nd and hopefully telling round of chemo.

Why is it a telling round? Because in a week or so, we all hope and pray that Jay and Kerry will be told, against original expectations, that the chemo is showing signs of making a difference. We all hope and pray that this news provides them all with a much needed lift in spirits and takes away the dreadful prognosis they faced just a few (but VERY long) weeks ago.

The month of July will bring sleepless nights for many of us, but hopefully some tears of joy. Your thoughts and best wishes (and prayers if you are so inclined) will be greatly appreciated.

I'll keep you posted as best as I can and thank those who have already passed on their positive thoughts and hopes.

4. The conclusion.

No parent should face what Jay and Kerry are going through; no child should go through this ... and yet there are so many instances of parents immeasurable bravery and determination.

I'm neither stupid nor arrogant enough to suggest I will make an immeasurable difference, but 2015 will see a shift in my focus as cancer becomes my fundraising target ... and that brings me back to my chat with Phil Lee.

I've seen two charities this week (both of whom have asked me for my 2015 Calendar of Events), and I've already agreed to dedicate my Friday, Saturday and Sunday to helping Yorkshire Cancer and Pancreatic Cancer Action raise money, as part of the Le Tour celebrations in Addingham, as the world's biggest cycle race comes through the village twice.

Earlier this week I also met Dawn Fidler (Mum to Super Josh) and promised that I'd do something on the Lancastrian side of the country to help raise funds to support brain tumour research.

What's all this got to do with my chat with Phil Lee? The year of 2014 has been a particularly frustrating year for me after the brilliant adventures of 2013, with many of the things I'd hoped to do being postponed, cancelled or delayed.  

Phil has grasped his dream and is driving it forward. He has found a way to combine his passion for the outdoor challenge with his role of professional management coach. Phil spent last weekend with  management from 1st direct, and the previous one with the Chairman, management and players of Huddersfield Town FC doing the 3 Peaks.

Now I don't want to do the 3 Peaks-like challenges; they're not for me, and my lifestyle means I can't give up the day job (after all I have ongoing obligations, as well as also saving for Lucia's and my wedding), but I also cannot continue to do occasional adventures and lay claim to being a fundraising adventurer.

Phil said my entire body language changed when we got onto my experiences raising money, cajoling people into going #ontheflag, and getting others interested enough in some 'different' adventures to want to join in. Developing the inspiration and ideas into reality, and seeing the enthusiasm of others for things like the Yeti family (more great work by Rushfirth Creative for an Everest basecamp trek) really floats my boat (to maintain the 'water' theme):  

It's time to stop being a part-time events guy, but it's not time to throw-in the corporate towel. It's time to commit to bringing things to life, or to decide the best things have been and gone.

It's great that people ask me what's next; it's great that charities are asking me about events calendars for 2015, and I so want to keep building the reputation of Involve. Maybe it's time though to take stock of what comes next; time to stop promoting the aspirations and only promote the commitments.

The best thing I did for me last week was to dedicate some time to building a spreadsheet. That's what I intend to do for the rest of July and into August; put more focus into what I can do. Sometimes I think it's time for my 'Peter Pan' side to grow up, and sometimes I'm so darn sure that I'll grow up when I'm dead; not now.

I guess life, personal success and financial reality can be defined in many ways; it's all a matter of perspective. Phil has his perspective and now it's time for me to get mine back.