By
Pony on November 25th, 2011
Posted in Pony | No Comments »
It’s Been A Hard Day’s Night
And I have been training like a dog.
Let me take you back for what seems like a life time ago, well, with a little more accuracy, 417 days ago. I had a little bit of a slip, trip, fall, at the Three Shires Race. The outcome of the fall was my Fibula broken in ten places, my Tibia was an open dislocation, on its way out of my skin it tore all the ligaments off my ankle, It’s been documented before so I won’t go over it again but if you’re bored it’s at www.ukfellponies.org.uk
For me, it’s very difficult to read again. Why? Well to be honest it brings tears to my eyes, such has been the emotional roller-coaster that has been the time since that fateful day, at that mouth-watering location, on Wet Side Edge.
I feel now that I have been so very lucky and at no time have I been bitter about what happened. I have in no way wished anything at all different, I have never thought “oh bugger” or “I wish I had run elsewhere, gone shopping, washed my hair; even painted the skirting boards”.
In a way now, and you may find this hard to believe, I feel I have been blessed with the accident. Don’t get me wrong: if I had the choice of it happening or not, I would choose Not!
But blessed I am. Blessed that I have learnt so much about me, about people around me and this fell running community we so dearly love.
I have marshalled at race events and will now never take anything for granted about the amount of work that goes into a race. Bill Johnson, for example, who organizes the “Midsummer Madness”’ series, runs round like a man possessed all weekend for no reward apart from your enjoyment! And some people even find it difficult to carry the right kit at races?
Every race you attend has somebody somewhere working tirelessly for you.
I have gone and watched races at various locations, cheered a load of folk on and been happy that they were running. One thing I have to say, the looks folks, the looks! Don’t ever look in a mirror! The beetroot heads, sweat running down, the snot hanging down; it’s not a good look and that’s just the ladies!
So far this year I have walked 54 Wainwrights, all with Ali and the New Dog, and all of the above are a snippet of the things I have done that I possibly would not have done prior to that day.
I have flirted with training from June, but I made mistakes. I thought that running was the way, so I would run, then run again, then pull a muscle, then stop, then mend, then run, then the ankle would swell, then go down, then I would run again, then pull a muscle… you get the picture? I just could not get into my thick skull that I had to take advice and understand that I just can’t run as much as I did before. So, I broke one of my life rules and went to the gym. It has been a godsend!
A fell running friend of mine, Darren Holloway, who has gone from mid pack to a top ten finisher in every race he runs, once told me in a pub (and I believed him!) that he trained every day. I woke on the 4th September with Mr Holloway’s words ringing in my ears. Now don’t ask me why I woke thinking of Daz but I did, just one of those things that can’t be explained I suppose.
For the last 11 weeks I have done just that, but with structure, i.e. I have only run twice a week with the rest of the time in the gym, using equipment all geared round low/no impact, but every day without fail I’ve trained.
When I got my head around how to train again or more to the point what my new body would let me do, it started working again. The drive being that I had a passion, a desire, a goal, I wanted to fell run again. I wanted to race!
My wife has been a rock from day one. From sleeping in another room in the early days so I could rest to driving me round for what seemed like a life time without a word of complaint, although she is now nearer to a Sergeant Major than a lover while out running. The lady has taken great delight in beasting me to the point of arguments and tears, but we had a goal, a goal to be at the start line again, and Ali has been a big piece in that jigsaw.
Don’t get me wrong, it has been hard work. I had put on a lot of weight while not being able to train, and the pain when getting going again has been, well, let’s say uncomfortable. It would have been very easy to give up and say “oh well, that’s it. I can’t race again because of bla bla bla” but it’s akin to a fell race, all the way round you wonder “why?” Then, a lot like the Langdale race, Pike o Blisco just comes up on you and you have to climb it to get to the end.
So what now?
I will, god willing, with Ali, race as much as I can, as much as my leg allows me to. I will try and get the demons out of my head about running downhill because at the moment I run down like a Hollywood wife in 6” stilettos.
I will never question a race organizer but be thankful for their efforts. Whenever I have raced in the past I made a point of thanking the marshals at each checkpoint; now after every race I will thank the RO as well.
At some point in a race I will take a second or two to have a quick look around, to be thankful for this wonderful, breathtakingly beautiful countryside we live and play in, because when you can’t run or walk in it you don’t half miss it.
The enforced time after that day has made me call time in Mountain Rescue. I had ten good years with MR, but I would not feel comfy carrying a big bloke like me down a hill side now!
When I wrote the last article this paragraph says a lot: I may not be able to join you again as a runner at that quiet place called the start line. I have one bone broken in ten places, the ligaments were torn off, the pins and plates may not hold such violent descents that we all love, but one thing is for sure and that is that I am going to try and run again, to race again would be fantastic. To line up at the start of any fell race with likeminded people for me would be an honour” (The Fellrunner Spring 2011).
Well I am honoured.
On Saturday the 19th November 2011 some 417 days after my accident with Alizon at my side (her first AL) we raced again in the full Tour of Pendle race, an AL that is very dear to my heart as I live very close and the pub at the end is grand. It seemed to be the perfect return.
Thanks to Ady at www.sportsunday.co.uk for the brilliant photo
By
Pony on October 6th, 2010
Posted in Pony | No Comments »
Thursday, 16th September
Phone call-“Hi Steve”, “Hi Andy”
“Steve, have you sorted the landing site for the helicopter with the farmer for Saturday?”
“Yes boss, all sorted, it can land at bla bla bla location, all farmers in the area have been visited and are aware that a Sea King is inbound @ approx 12.30 hrs.”
“Fantastic Steve, are you attending the exercise?”
“Don’t know Andy, Alizon (Mrs. Amex) is going with Emily (Junior Amex), who is giving blood for the first time and she is working Saturday night, so I am free. I was looking at a race in the lakes I fancied, it’s one of the classics and I have not raced for ages. I know it’s MR stuff Andy but it’s more a day for the trainees who have not flown before to get a feel for the big, noisy, smelly thing!”
“OK Steve but if you change your mind.”
“No worries boss.”
Friday, 17th
Eventless really, Nick called from The Climbers Shop, Ambleside and said the Odlo base layer and the Haglofs water proof I had ordered were in.
That’s it I thought, the Three Shires Race. I will run if I get up and out early. I can be in Ambleside, pick up my gear and be on time for the race (As a foot note the shop in Ambleside has to be one of the best gear shops I have ever been to. All they do is help, nothing is too much trouble).
Saturday, 18th: Race Day
Gear ready, bum bag packed, off I go. Fantastic, can’t wait. Even us back- markers get butterflies. I had not raced for a good 8 weeks, 7 weeks ago I tore my hamstring in a trails bike accident, but I was happy that I could make the 2 hour race cut off. I knew I would be blowing it out of my backside to the Three Shires Stone but was confident I would be OK.
In Ambleside at 9am, gear bought, wow it looks great! I will leave the Odlo top in the car and carry the Haglofs. Well it’s better than the ribbed condom that I usually carry!
The car park was the first time I had seen so many of the folk I have known for ages. As soon as I pulled up DJ waved, MG smiled, Oven Gloves waved and Phil came over. I saw loads of people who I just smiled at, all the folk I have seen at many races but just not chatted too, a nod of the head or a wave says enough. The walk to the start point had me and Oven Gloves solving the football troubles of our teams, fantastic. A day out in the hills, football chat and Oven Gloves agreed to meet me for a pint after the race.
Met Karl (AK) Who is indebted to me for life for I once carried his underwear round for him on his BG! Then saw Dennis Lucas (side note why the f*** has he not been knighted, OBE, yet? The man is a legend), we had a brief chat then the call came that makes everybody quiet, “please line up, we are ready”.
GO!
It felt good to plod up and down the road, some poor soul was walking back looking sore. I said something like “hard lines mate”; I meant it, I don’t like to see anybody not complete what they set out to do, also the thought sprang to mind “no way can I be last now as a DNF in my book is a race number to me”.
The climb up Weatherlam, OMG backwards is an understatement, I was just crap, no climb in my legs at all, and by the top I was last by about 5 mins. to a lady who I was chatting with who had had a go at a BGR a few weeks ago. I was impressed at her ability to be out so soon after.
The top came as they always do, I thanked the marshals and off I went, to be fair feeling better than I had a few mins. before. Up Prison Band to Swirl How, still last but with one eye on my watch and still confident that the cut off was going to be nailed.
I found the trod and was away, in no time at all I had passed the lady who was 5 mins. up on me, I had also got a glimpse of others who were racing. I always tend to get stronger as it goes on and today it seemed to be the same. I topped out on a ridge, looking down I could see TSS, I looked at my watch…..Fantastic, 5 minutes to spare, I would have no problems at all now, just got to get down to that check point.
Hmm, this is wet, I had slipped on one section, got up, I remember saying to myself “Take it easy Steve, this is b***** slippery.”
The next few seconds changed everything. I have been asked many times what happened, and I don’t have a b***** clue. I remember, in this order, hearing a snapping sound, an unsteady feeling, being sat on my a***, holding my right leg just under my knee with both hands, followed by a slow and meaningful look down my leg for what seemed like an age. It was like I was scanning my leg with X-ray eyes looking to see if I had been hurt.
I reached my foot with my newly found X- ray eyes and information started coming to me. The first thing I thought was “S***, I’m not going to make the cut off time now”.
The tibula was sticking out of my leg and looked like it had been used as an ice axe brake in the peat. My foot was at a right angle to my leg i.e. pointing sideways, hmm I turned off the X-ray system as it was no longer needed.
I have been an active member of the Mountain Rescue team for ten years now and have seen a few injuries like this so I knew things were not good. OK I thought, “what now?” Believe it or believe it not, I became very calculated, “I need help and I need help now”, so I screamed and threw in a few F words to the people who were at the TSS checkpoint. I was not screaming in pain I just knew I needed help.
People started turning up. A few had that “Oh S***” look on their faces, not to worry I thought, I asked whoever was there, “please call MR. I need help”. I even remember asking when contact with MR was made, “please let me know that they are on their way, and to also ask for air support”.
Then, a real WTF moment happened, “Hi are you Amex?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Wheezing Donkey.”
We shook hands, he is a Forum member.
Mountain Goatess soon came to me as calm as f***, good, I needed that.
“Hi Lou, how are you?”
“Okay pet” came the reply, she sat, we chatted.
Then out of the blue another lady came to me “Hi” she said “I am a doctor”. “Ding Dong” I thought. “Plug that leak” I said with a smile.
Tweed MRT members were passing the cas. (casualty) site, they helped immensely, masses amount of kit was on scene, keeping us all warm as we had all soon begun to feel the chill.
Somebody else came and said those words I needed to hear: “help is on its way.”
“Thanks” I said.
OK. As I sat there I thought “I need to be in a zone here.” I just sort of went into computer mode, “nothing is going to stop me getting off here. It is just a matter of time before help comes”. I thought pagers would be off now, some would be on the way to base or to RV point.
I sort of blocked the lower half of my body out, Lou (MG) came and sat behind me and I remember thinking “hmm that’s warm”. Somebody had got out my brand new Haglofs top and had put it on me. Now come on! Who else can honestly say the first time they wore
their brand new water proof was when they were sat with bones sticking out of their leg waiting for MR?!
I heard the sirens then almost right away and somebody said that help was here. I looked up and across to Pike o’ Blisco and thought “what a wonderful sight, how beautiful”, and very calmly said to myself “see you soon”.
MR came- a team member who I have seen before, then the team leader who I know, plus a new trainee. One team member asked the trainee if he would like to look at the injury. Hmm he was not keen, maybe the pool of claret that had collected put him off?
“Steve, would you like some pain relief?”
“No thanks.” I knew I would have some soon. At the time he asked me somebody had said the helicopter had landed and I thought the paramedic would put a “line” in and I can have s*** loads of everything when I am flying. I wanted to stay alert, focused and in my newly found computer mode.
The crack with the MR team was, as always, fantastic. Half an hour of p*** taking between team members. It’s a sort of a black humor thing that only people who do it understand.
Big yellow bird at some point, again things were a tad sketchy. The paramedic from the helicopter came to the cas. site, and introduced himself.
“Hi” he said, “on a score of one to ten, ten being the worst pain…..”
I said “3 and haven’t we worked with each other at Clayton le Moors? Young lad stuck down a hill side broken legs, its XXXX!” I said.
“Yes!” he said, looking somewhat shocked.
He again asked about pain relief. I told him I’d have some in the helicopter if that’s ok? He agreed and said “no problem”.
Again, as another side note, the MR crew on scene, paramedic and crew were so gentle so kind, so professional. I was proud to be involved in what they do.
Things got a bit fuzzy after the carry off. I remember being loaded on the Helicopter and the “line” going in my arm and then the warm feeling that only IV morphine can give you came flooding all over me. I, in real terms, was away with the fairies.
We landed in what seemed like 3 seconds, and being wheeled away from the helicopter just as I was about to leave the side of the aircraft, I said “Stop!” I lifted my arm up, knocked on the window of the craft and put my thumb up to the captain. “Thanks pal” I thought.
I remember being in the resus. room, and a big man telling me he was going to re-set my foot. “Cool” I thought, and I looked down again, my foot was pointing the right way, oh what joy! My wife at some point had turned up with our son. He had driven, it could not have been a good journey that one. Then the guilt came flooding all over me. How could I be so selfish? How could I allow people I love to witness this? I don’t know how I became a dribbling wreck in a moment’s time. I think as I sit here writing all this that I had been so focused over the last hour or so, not allowing the enormity of the situation or should I say the enormity to me, all sorts of things suddenly came into my mind. I am hurting the ones I love the most, I will never be able to fell run again, God will I be able to walk again?—– just try for a moment as a fell runner, no matter what level you are, and think about having the ability and everything you love about it taken away. I just cried.
Sunday the 19th
I woke on Sunday after, well to be honest, not a bad night. A nurse came over and sat with me. She explained that I had been in theater for about four and a half hours. She said they were concerned about the debris that was in the wound where the tib. had come out and that they had operated on the fib. She said the consultant would be round soon to explain. She was very, very caring. I mumbled something to her she did not hear, she leant forward and I could smell her perfume. I whispered to her, in sort of a Mills and Boon moment—— “any chance of a shower and some food, I smell like a horse’s a***!” She pulled away and smiled.
When they lifted me out of bed the bed was covered in blood from about my waist line to just above my knee, I had also quite a few cuts on my bum, six to be accurate which must have been from… well I still don’t know.
Things happened in a blur on the Sunday after the race. Drugs were to blame for this I think, but my desire to stay focused came back. I knew I could do nothing now about my leg but I could start the road back right away. I also asked for a shaving kit. I needed to be clean and look as good as I could from that moment forward. I was on the mend so I needed to look like I was on the mend. I got the word out to work and my PA was working overtime canceling meetings I was due to attend. Meetings in Ireland on Monday, Newcastle on Tuesday and Warrington on Wednesday. Things needed to be organized, my phone came to me at some point during that day and for a moment I thought should I turn it on? It will only buzz with work issues, and to be honest I could not be bothered, but I thought I better had.
I turned it on around 4 pm. Oh My Lord!
Monday 20th
My phone did not stop with good wishes, people who I had never met, had driven my car from where I had left it, people telephoning the ward, people telephoning the hospital, not knowing what ward I was on, people phoning my home, a page had been put out from the MR team I am a member of.
The FRA web site had loads of posts about me, God even a thread was started by a dear friend. I was, and still am, completely humbled and overwhelmed by people’s support and good wishes. People took time out of their lives to come and see me in hospital. I am amazed that the fell running community take it upon themselves to be the most loving people who mostly, as I am sure you agree, are very unassuming and remote in their own lives, but when they see one of their own in trouble they turn to help; not turn away.
At one point as I was sat there watching some drug dealer scum who wanted his girlfriend to take a DNA test to prove if he was the father of their child on Jeremy Kyle, a face popped round the wall. It was none other than Wendy Dodds! Even Wendy, who I have admired for years… a fell running god to me, had taken the time to come and see me. I was just, well as you can tell, I do not believe it.
Tuesday 21st
“Hi doctor, when can I go home?”
“Pardon!” came the reply.
“Home doc, I want to go home.”
“I am sorry Mr. Taylor, you are still on IV antibiotics and we will not even look at you going home until this is finished. We need to clean the wound area now.”
Hmm. how much fun can a bloke have in one day? Still more and more text messages come through, calls to the ward that now I can see are starting to annoy the staff!
Wednesday, 22nd
“God I am bored, more inane dribble on daytime TV…….”
“Hello Wendy!”
“Hi Steve, I was passing so I thought I would pop in and see how you are?”
Wow, twice in one week for me to meet one of my heroines, FANTASTIC!
After Wendy had been in I was moved to another ward. Right away I worked out the guy next to me was “Mr. Ill”. I asked how he was, mistake right away. I got the whole b***** history. He was in for a planned operation which he had had a week ago, every 30 seconds or so he yelped out like a puppy—- I thought “oh no, my bad nights sleep is going to get a whole lot worse”. How right I was as I listened to him snoring for hours that night, I was so jealous.
Thursday 23rd
At 8.30am when he woke I looked across to him and said “are you OK mate? God you had a bad night didn’t you, you were tossing and turning all night, you seemed in agony?
To be honest mate I have a bit of experience in medical matters” His eyes perked up, “yes I think you may have PIPS and you should look for that medicine that contains HTFU”.
He said he would look into that —— I think it’s time for me to Foxtrot Oscar.
“Doctor, Please, my wife is a staff nurse. I promise I will do everything you tell me to do, anything you request I will do, I have an ambulance on standby waiting to collect me at no cost to the NHS, please doctor I beg you.”
At 1400 hrs the mountain rescue ambulance was outside ready to collect me, to get me home.
12 Days After the Race
What have I learned? I have learned that people who say they love you really mean it, people who are friends really are, they are concerned about your well being, and people who you just nod at, at race meetings are just friends that you have not been introduced to yet.
Never ever underestimate this fell running community we have.
I have learned that no matter what level you are running at, front, middle or back this can happen to you, I just hope it doesn’t.
I may not be able to join you again as a runner at that quiet place called the start line. I have one bone broken in ten places, the ligaments were torn off, the pins and plates may not hold such violent descents that we all love, but one thing is for sure and that is I am going to try and run again, to race again would be fantastic. To line up at the start of any fell race with like minded people for me would be an honour.
To every person involved in my rescue thank you.
To every person that has helped me from the moment I went on my back side thank you
To every person that has sent messages of good will, been to see me, sent a text message, posted on the FRA website, or sent a private message or in any way just cast a thought my way, Thank you.
To my wife Mrs. Amex, my family and the ones very close to me, I am so sorry.
The only team member of Rossendale and Pendle MRT to get a helicopter ride on that fate full day was me. The Sea King was diverted to a rescue somewhere!
