Late nights and favours (part 2)

Sometimes do you ever find yourself jut sat; taking in what happened during the day?

I'm sat up on my lovely little mezzanine, in our study: not thinking consciously about today and not really analysing it, but just sitting there and letting it wash over me; through me; as my fingers hover over the laptop keyboard; wondering where to start .... and stop.

Yes that's my hat from the Sahara Trek in 2013. A memento to go with my polar boots and a framed 'Undertow' photo.

 Today: how to describe it?  Well today was .... well ..... oh I'll just start at the beginning.


1. So what happened?

It's the morning of Friday July 31st. My alarm begins to play the intro to 'Hill Street Blues', in an attempt to rouse me gently from my slumber. It is 6:40am and, to be honest, I don't feel 'gently' anything.

When I'd finally climbed into bed at 3:30am earlier that morning, it had taken over 20 minutes to calm my brain down and fall asleep; and now my nerve ends feel as if they are on fire. I resist the urge to hit 'snooze' as I'm about to have three meetings which have the potential to either inspire me, or depress the heck out of me for the rest of the year.

The first meeting is with a potential host and equipment provider for the first Race 48 mini-trial. The email I received two weeks ago had seemed positive, but it had taken 6 weeks after my initial approach to finally get to a decision-maker.

The second meeting is with another 'city'; one where a University had shown great enthusiasm for the Race 48 concept, along with the potential for the host of the first meeting to join forces.

The third; a meeting with a charity, about my much-loved Capital Tour idea. I'd written to them and they'd said they were intrigued.

A near-900 mile bike ride; to raise £000's for charity

...and make many more headlines around the UK and Eire; like this.

I dress quickly; finding one of the Race 48 polo shirts I've had made, and slowly but surely start coming round. My nerve ends start to calm down and no longer feel like the chaffed nether-regions of a Le Tour cyclists lycra shorts in a sand storm; but my gut is in turmoil, so breakfast is out of the question.

I jump in the car and, before I set off, I pop 3-4 extra strong mints in my mouth; which will help ensure my stomach doesn't make any untoward noises (nerves-driven or otherwise) during the conversation. Hey, I did tell you this blog would share ALL the detail.

I arrive early at the location and try to sit patiently in the car for the next 10 minutes, but soon find myself pacing up and down the near-deserted car park, practising my intro lines and the key things I have to remember: you know, those dull but totally essential things like First Aid cover, insurance and waiver forms.

This meeting could end in a three-minute damp squib of a conversation or I could get so giddy I can see myself offering to donate all my vital internal organs as a dowry to the partnership. My stomach burbles to offer a pointless protest.

At exactly 8:02am, my host arrives and, with a hearty handshake, tells me he's very excited about getting involved and supporting the mini-trial. We sit in the middle of the venue and I summarise what we are hoping to do and how I think they might be able to help. "I can't decide whether 10 or 20 machines would be best?" I muse, with an attempt at a sagely worldly look in my eye when, in fact, I want 20 but dare not ask.

"Definitely 20" he says. "It will make more of an impact for the press; especially if we can get some TV interest. We have some really good contacts and I'm sure they'll see it as a great piece". Did he just mention the potential for TV interest? Only in my wildest dreams had I imagined that.

We discuss likely dates; participant recruitment; 24-hour non-stop access plus setting-up and dismantling time; security overnight in the car park, and the logistics of up to 480 people walking through their doors over the 24-hour period. Nothing seems to be too much; in fact he is going to pull another manager from a different location into the discussion; such is their corporate enthusiasm.

And so, after only 20 minutes, I walk out after a handshake of mutual commitment and the offer to me to communicate as often as required to make the first Race 48 mini-trial a huge success .... and open the door to UK-wide opportunities.

  
My Involve ethos had taken the first teeny tiny minuscule faltering step towards the vague possibility of it evolving into a part-time career; alongside my aspiration to develop BlueDucks into a part-time career as well.

The bright sunshine warms my face as I walk out into the car park and I feel this enormous rush of purpose and enthusiasm. Why couldn't every week consist of such rushes? Why couldn't every week be partially structured around this as a way of life?

It was agreed that we won't go public with the detail until September, by which time we have to have a number of key attributes and activities in place; not least translating enthusiasm into sign-ups and the emerging interest of a cancer charity turned into active involvement with clear commitments to make this happen.

I text the charity to say we are 'on' and that I'll call them during the week. They are not only very excited but already talking about the potential corporate involvement and that they too know TV people who might be sufficiently intrigued (oddly enough the same TV people my previous host was talking about).

July has come to a tumultuous conclusion. In the final two weeks my youngest had her 21st birthday; I married my wonderful fiancée Lucia (although the 'wedding dress' event is yet to come), and I had had my birthday .... and the potential that this meeting has; it feels like Christmas has arrived too.

Youth, beauty and an unbelievable depth of warmth and maturity - I am truly blessed to have such a wife.

I get ready to drive to Sheffield for my next meeting, knowing I can stop for a Starbucks and a light breakfast on the way. I send a message to the four Yorkshire business folk involved in Race 48, to let them know that meeting number one couldn't have gone better.

We have a meeting set-up for 7:30am next Friday, so I need to get us all thinking about the detail of how we get from the euphoria of today, through to the reality of late-October. 

Before I start the engine, I check my emails. One in particular catches my attention - it is from the General Legal Counsel of a very well-known dot.com, and they want to reach out by phone to discuss something.

What on earth can they want with little old me? I have an inkling and I need to find out. This could be a real distraction. I pick the phone up ......

2. An Update on Florence the 'warrior princess'.

As many of you know, my great friend Jay and his wife; Kerry, are going through the sort of life experience that no parent should face: that of childhood cancer in one of their beautiful daughters.

In what seems like an eternity ago, and yet only yesterday, I received a call from Jay at 1am one morning last year; devastated at the news they'd just been given. Only a 5% chance of survival.

As any regular reader also knows little Florence is a fighter: so much so she earned the nickname of 'The Warrior Princess'. Well I'm thrilled (but still cautious) to tell you that she has just passed her 6-month remission milestone. Still a LONG way to go but, as my way of celebrating, here are a number of photos that describe her journey; their journey ... and it's a journey I've committed Race 48 to help all those children and their parents with, that are still facing the prospect of this living hell.

I hope you'll help me and, if you're from Leeds, Sheffield, Manchester or Liverpool; keep watching this space.

March 2014

June 2014

October 2014

January 2015

March 2015

July 2015

These photos and memories fill my heart with joy; my gut with anger and my eyes with tears. No doubt there were days when a smile was impossible, but this little girl puts a whole lot of minor crap in this world into perspective.




3. What happens next?

Planning meeting and deadlines to agree for Race 48, and I need to follow up on the kind offer to talk to an educational advisor about a supporting educational pack for schools.

In the meantime, I'm sitting down to draft the critical activities and timeline between now and 1st September. What happens on the 1st September? Well I hope you're intrigued enough to read the next blog, to find out some more.

The Sheffield meeting took off at a tangent; but a good one hopefully (Marc). The Capital Tour meeting went extremely well, but I can't say anything else on that (primarily because I'm waiting for a formal response from the charity)

Great to see over 300 readers of the last blog entry, but I have a long way to go to get the level of interest in this up into the thousands (like my polar trek entry). Feel free to share this link, and thank you for taking the time to read this one.

Until next weekend, have a great one!