For me, engaging on a pilgrimage as I write in June 2024 is not a luxury, hobby, jolly jape. After four months living on the Isle of Wight, where I know few people, where aspects of my health have stopped getting worse but my circumstances have, it is imperative I set some goals. Having not been on my outdoor trike since cancer treatment started at the beginning of September last year, now five stone over-weight, confined by the implications of a damaged bladder, isolation, other stuff like council-induced idiocy, disabling progressive MS, knackered knees, damaged lungs — blah, blah etc — all point to not being able to do the events. Too hard, too much pain. Are those violins I hear weeping? Sport on telly, Netflix. A few beers when I’ve next got some money … This is to give context, not elicit sympathy. Honest.
As we used to say in software, time to eat my own dog food. American expression. Needs translating. Start by Shepherding my own Mind. And show you what I mean. To do that and have genuine chances of completing and narrating the stories of other pilgrimages, I have to test out my own ability to reverse a decade of descent into the depths of having ‘given up’. First, I have to prove the concept in a relatively safe, benign but still examining and credible landscape.
The snapshot of my life currently is a situation. It will change. Life will change it, other people will change it, or I can change it. The third option entails my ‘agency’. One of the reasons I never ask for help is because that forfeits my agency. But, I can’t do a pilgrimage without help. So, I have to realise the act of asking for help is my choice, my agency. But I also have to find my limits. A once highly active individual, I have spent most of the last ten days on my back, most of last October in bed. So, here we go, let’s prove the concept, test the limits. I feel the need for … a slow roll.
Event 1. The Solent Way. 13th – 16th September, 2024
This is the Solent Way. Safe, accessible, redolent of history with loads of interesting stories to dwell on, close. 60 miles, four days, 15 miles a day. A reachable goal, but not in my current situation, with this current edition of a body. I joined the Army on September 13th, 1982. Twelve weeks away from as-I-write, although many lifetimes and a few decades ago in my mind and in time. Enough time on flat(ish, very ish) terrain. Day after, 17th. 80th anniversary of the airborne drop into Arnhem. Could celebrate that in Portsmouth. Then get back to Ryde. Next a party to celebrate StM. Whaddya think?
The first thing I need is a team. On my own, motivation can weaken. If I’m answerable to somebody else, I tend to find reserves. I can’t get across to the north island atm to ‘recce’ the route, there are things I physically can’t do any more. Charles and I joined the Army on the same day in ’82, we met up again last Christmas at a Corps Association event. I’m aware of the good work he does now he’s retired. I mailed him, he came across to Ryde to see me. He’s in. If it all comes together, I’ll launch Shepherding the Mind on the back of this event.
