Sorrow, Strength and Stoicism

Charlie
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I've been a week back from Arctic survival training in Norway (a week that I have begun to affectionately call hell week) and I think I'm finally able to start talking about it. I was always able to talk about it, but what I actually mean is to talk about it rationally and dispassionately. I'll post about the nitty gritty soon, but peversely for me, I want to talk feelings.


I spent a great deal of hell week in tears and because of that I berated myself constantly with thoughts of weakness and inadequacy. I cried tears of frustration as I struggled with every damn task I was given, tears of pain when physically injured (and that was a daily occurrence), tears of fear, fatigue and insecurity. Hell I even threw in a few snivels of self pity, I'm ashamed to say, which I quickly quashed. I wasn't in a great head space before I left for Norway, but by the end of the week I was thoroughly demoralised and beaten, and I've been shamed ever since at my lack of fortitude. Particularly in contrast to the ever tough and imperturbable ex-military instructors we had training us and who I hero worshiped. (Thank you Conrad, Gary and Rob).


I came to a realisation last night, albeit after 4 Jack & Cokes, that I can't abide emotional outbursts in myself. It's fine for others, and I'm certain that I respond compassionately and sensitively to anyone who needs it. It's just a personal standard that I seem to have misguidedly set somewhere along the way. There is something embarrassing about the loss of control when I cry. The tears boil over and can't be stopped. It angers me and I loathe others seeing me so exposed. I feel like a weak and irrational female. I even can't stand films that strike such an emotional chord in me that I cry. I find myself frozen in horror in the cinema. Do I risk a subtle wipe of the face? Will mopping up the emotional out-pour draw attention from the disapproving masses?


Last night over drinks Greg paraphrased an article he had once read by a high powered woman. She was in a top corporate position and contended with a lot of stress in her job. Every so often she would close the door to her office and have a good cry at her desk. In this article she said something to the effect of "I'm a woman, sometimes I need to cry to deal with emotion. It doesn't make me weak. I'm not uncomfortable with that so deal with it."


Somewhere along the line I learned that to be stoic is to be strong, an impossible benchmark considering that the occasional sobbing fit is totally beyond my control. I  couldn't even allow myself to grieve openly for the death of my father. I was angry at my family's public grief because it seemed to me attention seeking and self-serving. Yet I was angry when they leaned on my apparent strength for support. Twisted, I know.


Last night I had an epiphany. Strength isn't ignoring your emotions, it's dealing with them. I am a woman. I am emotional. I do on occasion need to cry to let out my stresses.


In my battle to be strong and independent I have mistaken many things and I'm bound to misjudge many more. However hell week and last night's alcohol fuelled therapy session has allowed me to destroy two self-imposed fallacies.


1) To share your problems is to depend on help.
2) To emote is weak.


Now that I'm over those it goes a long way to explaining why I'm up at 04:00 having a very public, emotional outburst to you the perfect stranger.


Whatever people. I'm female. It doesn't make me weak. Get over it!

(Stunning pic courtesy of fdecomite. http://www.flickr.com/photos/fdecomite/1380664755/)

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The Big Freeze

Charlie
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At long last, I am the first Briton to ever think that the weather seems to be conspiring with my needs. This is a satellite image of the UK under the current frosty spell. The snow is no longer such an annoyance, now that I have a bloody good reason to be jumping in it. I can't wait for my Arctic race kit issue, snow proofed boots will certainly prevent a recurrence of my currently sodden and frozen feet.

I've just about acclimatised to the temps. The key point is to let your muscles relax in order for the blood to flow, or at least that's what my boyfriend keeps telling me. Of course, in one week I'm going to be in Hjerkinn, Norway with temperatures of minus 20 C. So I can't really be seen to be bitching about a relatively tropical 0 C, can I?

I'll just moan internally then.

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The White Stuff

Charlie
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While the rest of the UK ground to a halt, due to the longest freeze since, er, well the last time it was as cold as this, I've been out and about taking advantage of the ideal training conditions for the Polar Challenge.

This was an easy 11 km jog (with a few kgs in the backpack) from Canary Wharf to Aldwych, then back to the Tower of London. The surprising benefit of outdoor running is the sight-seeing potential. This route afforded spectacular views of a snow covered London. I ran along the Thames, through a deserted, frozen and seemingly post-apocalyptic city, to a snow flurried St Paul's that was somewhat reminiscent of the snow globe from Mary Poppins. Huh, a post-apocalyptic Mary Poppins? I'd pay to see that.

Though fitness and cold weather conditioning is the holy grail of polar training, I think the dominant benefit of this run was psychological. By which I mean the winning attitude gained by doing the harder thing, when it would be far easier, let's say, to remain huddled under a cocoon of several fluffy blankets whilst simultaneously being heated by a glowing fire and supping on hot toddy. A purely hypothetical example, of course.

I'm thrilled I didn't break anything in the slippy conditions. Last run on the ice caused me to be severely wounded with what could be best described as a paper cut. I slipped and saved my fall by elegantly crashing into a wire fence, hand first. I am bravely soldiering on.

Anyway the cold isn't too damning as long as you keep moving.




















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Polar Bear Attacks - The Terrors of Racing in the High Arctic

Charlie
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Hey all, I haven't posted in a while. The magnitude of the race preparation is overwhelming.

I'm constantly tired from the grueling hours of training. When the workout is completed, there is the mammoth task of chasing more sponsorship, fund-raising and writing web updates. Then of course there is the mental preparation. You have to train the mind to cope with the stresses of 15 hours a day in complete isolation with only your headspace to explore, crippling fatigue, and a life-threatening and hostile environment.

Just when you think you can manage all of that, you read about a vicious polar bear attack in Manitoba, Canada. During the race to the North Pole there will of course be the continuous danger of such an encounter, and something like this can really cripple your confidence.

This attack took place in broad daylight, onlookers simply watched and did nothing to help. Please page down to see the severity of the attack.





















Photo source unknown

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