With New Year's day being last Sunday. 2017 stretched out like a Goddess. Full of hope and wonder. Full of new beginnings. She felt so wonderful. So utterly uplifting. She promised to be the ultimate date.
She stroked us and whispered beautiful nothings in our ear. She brought us tea in bed and made us scrambled egg and smoked salmon. She dived through the waves by moonlight and ran naked along a deserted beach. New Years danced provocatively to soulful Buddha beats and made us semi hard through our elasticated Xmas jogging bottoms. She made slow beautiful love to us and bought us kebab and chips after.
But then she changed. She turned up on the date after the cock teasing what's app messages of NYE 2017 She was Ok at first. On day 1 and 2, because it wasn't real. There was no work. We were still leaving the dream.
And then we went back to work. We had to face her. She turned 2017 into something horrific. She became the same as 2016. What a bitch!!!
All those aspirations of 2017 are hard to maintain when you are crushed on the 6.43am Jubilee Line, pressed up against a portly middle aged man trying to read his paper smashed into your face. The optimism of 2017 is hard to maintain When the kids wouldn't wake up or your husband leaves another militant skid-mark in the toilet. Not dancing by moonlight now are you 2017 you liar!!!!
Fantasising rather than actually doing it is so much more fun. Sure I'd like a great job, business, home, money, financial security, health, happy zestful life. But do I REALLY have to put the effort in to get it? Can't I just remain in that holiday loop dreaming and writing it down?
Successful people of course reject this way of thinking. The fun is in the action. Doing something with a purpose and energy means it doesn't feel like work. It is just what you do. That's the gold right there. The holy grail.
And what of today? The first day of the rest of your life? Except it was like the others. Did you do the same job? Follow the same path? Think the same way? Did you make any changes to normal? Did it follow the pattern as 2016?
Me? I 'worked from home'. A lethal challenge for an arch procrastinator and recovering 'alkie'. Why? Well because at any given time the 'black cloud' of fear & low self esteem can strike, Rendering any positive actions like wading through treacle. Then when you sprinkle a little 'overwhelmed as to which direction, what to do' into the mix - essentially crippling you into inertia.
These of course are ideal conditions to engage in full avoidance and procrastination. After all, why do today what you can put off until tomorrow/next week/month/year? Trouble is by avoiding it doesn't actually make the problem go away, it just hides it for a while and actually makes it grow until it reaches colossal proportions. Putting things off may feel comfortable but it's the worst thing you can do. The fear is winning then. "That's right my little fear ridden bitch. I've got you now" The fear will say to you. Owning you like a BDSM master whipping his little gimp.
Today was a bit of a struggle if I'm honest. The motivational messages I've written on my wall to get up and out and not procrastinate are easily ignored. Ok, I've not been well but it's still so easy to sit in bad habits. So, I did a little 20 min Home work out and went for a 1 hour walk. It was something and whilst I haven't exactly setting the world on fire. Some kind of progress.
The point is today, its Ok not to feel amazing. So I haven't launched into the year like a rocket. I haven't got the level of success I see others on social media (the age old awful phenomenon of compare and despair) So I haven't yet become the ultra lean n clean healthy guru (I may never be) - but I did OK, I didn't catastrophise. I didn't fuck everything and run (F.E.A.R) I just did what you guys did today. Just got on with things.
It's not a 9/10 day but it's not a 1/10 write off. Perspective Nicholas, it's a good thing sometimes.
If you survived today you're a legend. If you are maintaining you're goals from Saturday night you are incredible and I salute you. If you've broken them already and feeling despondent then fuck that. Get back on it tomorrow or message me and i'll set you straight.
We are all warriors. We are all legends so I want you all to finish reading this and repeat to yourself, quietly or loudly if you want (especially if you're in a packed train carriage) -
"I'M a MASSIVE FUCKING LEGEND and I'M DOING OK"
Love you all very much
Nicholas Edward Evans
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
How to Deal with the Flu Bug - A Handy Top Ten Tip Guide
It's January 4th. We're back at work and I'm 6 days into a heavy bout of flu. Times are hard, the head is gloomy and it's only 4 days into 2017.
"Will I ever get better? Will this sickness ever leave? Will I ever find energy and motivation to do anything? These are all questions those of us with flu will be asking ourselves.
"Will you ever get better? "Will you ever shut the fuck up? or "When will you stop moaning and die?" Are all questions loved ones or family members of flu victims will be asking themselves.
It's a tough time. Many of us have been struck down. However, don't worry. Help is at hand. I've written a handy top ten tip guide to surviving the dreaded flu bug. I hope you enjoy;
1 - Diagnose yourself - DO NOT seek medical attention. It's much better to diagnose yourself. That way it's bound to be flu. Better still, consult Google and you're bound to diagnose yourself with some form of rare cancer. Why put your mind at rest when you can spend over a week convinced you're dying? Self diagnosis is WAY more fun.
2 - Moan - Of course in the old days people rarely visited doctors or moaned, even if they genuinely had a rare form of cancer. Granted, life expectancy back then was around 14 years old but at least they didn't moan. However, times change, we live in a far more sanitised and pussy whipped generation now. So don't be frightened to moan like a girl and demand as much sympathy as possible from everyone. You may lose all dignity and respect from people but you will receive the required sympathy such mentally weak modern people such as myself require. PS - visit the doctor every two days until you are barred.
3 - Play the sympathy game smartly - Obviously battle hardened family members and friends will be wise to your pathetic ways. If they are not providing the necessary level of sympathy move to social media. It's perfect. People don't have to be arsed to actually do anything, god forbid visit you which requires effort. No, instead your tactics should concentrate on people's selfishness yet need to look publicly concerned. So focus on the middle aged, the gays, mother's or grandmothers and friends who also have the virus. You'll get fuck loads of sympathy on your feed and will wake up from your slumber to a new notification of yet another person making themselves feel better with a sympathy like and comment on your pathetic post.
4 - Wallow in self pity - Don't listen to all those bull-shitters about positive thinking and how 'there are many worse off than you". It's easy for them to say, they haven't been ill for 6 days and forced to watch 'Flog it' every day. Fuck that. Really lose perspective and imagine yourself worse off than anyone else in the world. By day 4 you should be nicely pitiful and best to wallow in it for at least a week. DO NOT do anything to disrupt this misery, like Charity work or speaking to do-gooders. Pure isolation are best conditions. 1-2 weeks like this should set you up nicely post illness to feel super grateful for your normal life.
5 - Isolate - As above. It's important to cut yourself off from the outside world. Try not to speak to anyone, or actually go out. The less contact with the outside world the better. That way you can truly go insane and convince yourself you are worse than you actually are. If you have contact with people they might convince you do things healthy for your flu. Don't. If you're going to have it you may as-well cash in. That way it will incentivise you to be more healthy so you don't get it back. Isolate for days so you feel imprisoned and alone. When you are on the verge of suicide, it's time to go out. Yiu are ready to get better.
6 - Feed the Flu - It's important to put the right things in your body to give it the best chance to recover. Obviously lots of water, fresh greens, fruit and healthy grub is important. But, really, who wants that when you're feeling like shit? Cooking is clearly out, so if you can't warm up soup, or whip up some boiled eggs and soldiers, just binge on biscuits, quality streets and mince pies left over from Xmas. This will pile on weight nicely and feed number 4 adding to the self pity and hatred. Don't forget to keep hydrated though. Hot toddies are a nice touch, though in my experience leave out the coffee or tea and just neck the brandy if things get too bad. For the recovering alcoholics out there, Lemsip Max is the new crack cocaine. The one with the caffeine in it. That shit is golden. Trouble is it keeps you up for about 4 days straight and makes you insane and feel worse and like killing yourself. Doesn't say that on the possible side effects. But at least you have energy.
7 - Keep Everyone Updated on Social Media - This is crucial. Obviously closely related to number's 2 and 3. It's very important to make sure EVERYONE knows you are poorly. Not just for sympathy but for heroic status when you actually do a day's work, shag your woman/man, or just stand up straight. Getting a huge amount of kudos or sympathy is massively important to the self centred pussy. Therefore detailing when the flu gets really bad, to when it gets a little better, and then worse again is important. As are the dramatic short statements when you've had enough. Use plenty of exclamation marks and keep messages short, punchy and matyr like. You don't want to appear sad and desperate for attention/love/affirmation (even though you are)
8 - Try to go into work - A classic card to play. Crawling in when half dead is guaranteed hero status. It means you can get at least 2 weeks off guilt free as they have seen the true horror of your condition. Plus they won't want you infecting everyone. I know it takes a herculean effort to go in when so ill, but trust me it will be so worth it in the long run. Those, who like me, work for yourself. Well, we have two choices. 1 - Soldier on, or 2 - Starve.
9 - Slip into a Deep Dark Depression - I know, I know, you'll be thinking. 'Surely that's a given." Well, you'll be surprised, some freaks riddled with flu retain a sunny sense of positivity and optimism. Fuck that. Those wankers obviously haven't had proper flu. Anyone with proper flu will know a deep dark well of blackness that fucks anything good in their life descends like a black cloud for the duration of the flu. No amount of Prozac, vodka, niceness or good news will penetrate this dark fog. It's important never to go near positive people at this time as you will most probably murder them. Avoid those who offer health advice during this fog. Murdering them will be the only cure to such depression.
10 - Do the opposite of the previous 9 tips and you'll get over it much quicker and man the fuck up. It's not like your dying or summat.
Love you all
Nicholas Edward Evans
Day 6 Flu Sufferer
"Will I ever get better? Will this sickness ever leave? Will I ever find energy and motivation to do anything? These are all questions those of us with flu will be asking ourselves.
"Will you ever get better? "Will you ever shut the fuck up? or "When will you stop moaning and die?" Are all questions loved ones or family members of flu victims will be asking themselves.
It's a tough time. Many of us have been struck down. However, don't worry. Help is at hand. I've written a handy top ten tip guide to surviving the dreaded flu bug. I hope you enjoy;
1 - Diagnose yourself - DO NOT seek medical attention. It's much better to diagnose yourself. That way it's bound to be flu. Better still, consult Google and you're bound to diagnose yourself with some form of rare cancer. Why put your mind at rest when you can spend over a week convinced you're dying? Self diagnosis is WAY more fun.
2 - Moan - Of course in the old days people rarely visited doctors or moaned, even if they genuinely had a rare form of cancer. Granted, life expectancy back then was around 14 years old but at least they didn't moan. However, times change, we live in a far more sanitised and pussy whipped generation now. So don't be frightened to moan like a girl and demand as much sympathy as possible from everyone. You may lose all dignity and respect from people but you will receive the required sympathy such mentally weak modern people such as myself require. PS - visit the doctor every two days until you are barred.
3 - Play the sympathy game smartly - Obviously battle hardened family members and friends will be wise to your pathetic ways. If they are not providing the necessary level of sympathy move to social media. It's perfect. People don't have to be arsed to actually do anything, god forbid visit you which requires effort. No, instead your tactics should concentrate on people's selfishness yet need to look publicly concerned. So focus on the middle aged, the gays, mother's or grandmothers and friends who also have the virus. You'll get fuck loads of sympathy on your feed and will wake up from your slumber to a new notification of yet another person making themselves feel better with a sympathy like and comment on your pathetic post.
4 - Wallow in self pity - Don't listen to all those bull-shitters about positive thinking and how 'there are many worse off than you". It's easy for them to say, they haven't been ill for 6 days and forced to watch 'Flog it' every day. Fuck that. Really lose perspective and imagine yourself worse off than anyone else in the world. By day 4 you should be nicely pitiful and best to wallow in it for at least a week. DO NOT do anything to disrupt this misery, like Charity work or speaking to do-gooders. Pure isolation are best conditions. 1-2 weeks like this should set you up nicely post illness to feel super grateful for your normal life.
5 - Isolate - As above. It's important to cut yourself off from the outside world. Try not to speak to anyone, or actually go out. The less contact with the outside world the better. That way you can truly go insane and convince yourself you are worse than you actually are. If you have contact with people they might convince you do things healthy for your flu. Don't. If you're going to have it you may as-well cash in. That way it will incentivise you to be more healthy so you don't get it back. Isolate for days so you feel imprisoned and alone. When you are on the verge of suicide, it's time to go out. Yiu are ready to get better.
6 - Feed the Flu - It's important to put the right things in your body to give it the best chance to recover. Obviously lots of water, fresh greens, fruit and healthy grub is important. But, really, who wants that when you're feeling like shit? Cooking is clearly out, so if you can't warm up soup, or whip up some boiled eggs and soldiers, just binge on biscuits, quality streets and mince pies left over from Xmas. This will pile on weight nicely and feed number 4 adding to the self pity and hatred. Don't forget to keep hydrated though. Hot toddies are a nice touch, though in my experience leave out the coffee or tea and just neck the brandy if things get too bad. For the recovering alcoholics out there, Lemsip Max is the new crack cocaine. The one with the caffeine in it. That shit is golden. Trouble is it keeps you up for about 4 days straight and makes you insane and feel worse and like killing yourself. Doesn't say that on the possible side effects. But at least you have energy.
7 - Keep Everyone Updated on Social Media - This is crucial. Obviously closely related to number's 2 and 3. It's very important to make sure EVERYONE knows you are poorly. Not just for sympathy but for heroic status when you actually do a day's work, shag your woman/man, or just stand up straight. Getting a huge amount of kudos or sympathy is massively important to the self centred pussy. Therefore detailing when the flu gets really bad, to when it gets a little better, and then worse again is important. As are the dramatic short statements when you've had enough. Use plenty of exclamation marks and keep messages short, punchy and matyr like. You don't want to appear sad and desperate for attention/love/affirmation (even though you are)
8 - Try to go into work - A classic card to play. Crawling in when half dead is guaranteed hero status. It means you can get at least 2 weeks off guilt free as they have seen the true horror of your condition. Plus they won't want you infecting everyone. I know it takes a herculean effort to go in when so ill, but trust me it will be so worth it in the long run. Those, who like me, work for yourself. Well, we have two choices. 1 - Soldier on, or 2 - Starve.
9 - Slip into a Deep Dark Depression - I know, I know, you'll be thinking. 'Surely that's a given." Well, you'll be surprised, some freaks riddled with flu retain a sunny sense of positivity and optimism. Fuck that. Those wankers obviously haven't had proper flu. Anyone with proper flu will know a deep dark well of blackness that fucks anything good in their life descends like a black cloud for the duration of the flu. No amount of Prozac, vodka, niceness or good news will penetrate this dark fog. It's important never to go near positive people at this time as you will most probably murder them. Avoid those who offer health advice during this fog. Murdering them will be the only cure to such depression.
10 - Do the opposite of the previous 9 tips and you'll get over it much quicker and man the fuck up. It's not like your dying or summat.
Love you all
Nicholas Edward Evans
Day 6 Flu Sufferer
Monday, January 2, 2017
The Nick Evans Motivational Top Ten Tips How to Have an Amazing 2017...
Happy 2017 everyone.
A New Year. A fresh start. A chance to set new goals and plan the next 12 months. Or lay on the sofa and slowly shit yourself at the thought of the return to normality tomorrow and put shit off for another year.
I'm not a big one for resolutions. It all seems a bit cosmetic. It's easy to write a 'wish list' of things to desire but the crucial bit is DOING it.
Does writing stuff down actually achieve anything? Here's the thing. Even if we sit on our arse for 365 days, stuff will happen because that's what life is. Perpetual movement of time, action and energy. The sun rises even if we sleep. The world will still turn. But how much does our attitude, our belief system and our actions affect our life?
How many people do you know complain about their job or relationship, that they are unlucky or are alone? It's no coincidence that people who complain the most seem to have the most bad luck. Do they have bad luck because they complain or do they complain because they have bad luck?
If I say 'I will NEVER' be able to give up smoking. Do you think I am just perpetuating that belief to keep me smoking even though I know its not serving me? Once I change my belief then the rest will follow.
How many of us today decided we want to join a gym, get fit, run a marathon, eat healthy, lose weight, change jobs, find a soul mate. Do these things happen by chance or does our attitude and life contribute?
January is a classic time to set out your objectives for the year. But Is it just me or does anyone else get a little daunted and overwhelmed? There is SO much information on New Year wish lists, fads, goals, retreats, exercise tips, lifestyle advice, health and wellness, stopping drinking, shaping up, getting the career you want. It's exhausting.
I actually get stressed wondering if my goals are good enough or beating myself up if I'm not really sure what they are specifically. FUCK!!!!! What do I Do?!!!! I even suffer anxiety that maybe I don't need any goals, that I'm Ok as I am. or am I just kidding myself? God it's SO stressful.
But the real question isn't WHAT do I want to do. It's HOW do I do it???!!
How the fuck do I change my life around? How do I lose this spare tyre that has built up from excessive shit eating? How do I get the job of my dreams? How do I get my soul mate? How do I get that life? How do I run a 3 hour marathon? Or, How do I decide what I actually bloody want?
So, to help you out with this Luckily I have Put together Top Ten Tip list to help you have an Amazing 2017. Here it is.
1 - Chill the fuck out. Do not stress yourself if you don't know what you want. You don't have to have a shopping list. Relax and take it easy
2 - Do stuff. The Ying to number 1's yang. Relax by all means and don't stress but you also have to do shit. Sitting on your lazy arse waiting for stuff to come to you is just a whole hunk of lazy arsed badness. I guarantee you'll be complaining in 12 months time if you take this attitude
3 - Be Bold But Realisitic - I'm all for setting incredible goals but make sure you start off with attainable ones. If you want to run a marathon for example, but haven't run since you nearly missed closing time at the offy last July, it's probably best you start with a 5 or 10k before building up. Aim big but keep those Dunlop green flash on the floor.
4 - Baby Steps DO count - Everyone thinks you need to have showy, incredible amazing goals. be a millionaire, launch a business, have an incredible life, run the world!! Lose 6 stone. Fuck that. Glory in the every day. Small victories count more than showy ones. By making tiny changes larger ones are born. Word up.
5 - Compare and Despair at your peril - There's nothing more guaranteed to bring you misery and demotivate you than comparing your goals and achievements with others on social media. Comparing yourself next to the high achieving lunatics on Facebook is guaranteed trouble. Instead go and hang out at the department of work and pensions every month. You'll feel like Donald Fucking Trump. Stick to your guns people. Own your own space. You're fine as you are.
6 - Keep it simple. No more needs to be said. We complicate shit far too much
7 - Laugh at yourself - How many coach's, fitness trainers, motivational speakers, self help gurus take themselves really seriously? Have you ever seen any laugh at themselves and promote having fun along the way. Since when did goal setting become SO serious? Don't forget to laugh at your own ridiculousness and have fun along the way.
8 - Don't beat yourself up - OK, so you may fall by the wayside? You may have bumps along the way. You may not even get what you set out to do. But fuck it. does it REALLY matter? Don't sweat and beat yourself up. It really doesn't matter. In the grand scheme of things its what you learn on the journey than the result anyway
9 - Observe the scenery - Take in the views of the journey. That's where the gold is.
10 - Get Help! Employ The Nick Evans (TNE) as your motivational coach and pay him for his motivational services and insightful genius allowing his personality and deep knowledge of disfunction and sabotaging success to allow you to achieve yours. (or get a good PT, coach, trainer, counsellor, attend 12 step fellowship or whatever you need but get help along the way) Or just read my blogs, buy my book and watch my videos.
YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT (Whatever it is)
Have a good year
Love you all big
Nicholas Edward Evans
My head always follows my feet. I have to put in action then the rest of me follows. In AA there is a wonderful saying. "Have smart feet" - no-one ever thought themselves well and thus it is about having smart feet and letting them take me to my Family's or to a meeting where the head will eventually settle and change. The committee will quieten and I can get on with my life.
Oh PS, don't worry, I'm not a saint by the way. I still managed to be a grumpy bastard, say something to a dear friend that pissed them off, was rude, abrupt and really horrible to someone else and made someone cry. I mean I'm not a spiritual guru or saint here. And that's when I'm trying to be nice. Jesus can you imagine me on a bad day?!! Happy New Year!
I know what I'm up against here. My head. It's like a turning a tanker round at times. From negative to positive. It doesn't come naturally. The mind and head is a powerful tool. Mental health and mood is so closely related to lifestyle yet sometimes I just don't see it. The self sabotage in me is strong. The self will iron like. But today was a simple example of change being a positive action rather than a word or thought. It can start right now. This minute.
Putting the Quality Street down. Picking up the phone to ask how someone is doing. Walking instead of taking a lift. Going to see your Mum instead of lazing on the sofa. Whatever it is/ they make you feel better. Small daily positive steps all add up and I found that out today. Do the opposite of wat my tired bad head says and I'll be alright.
I'm looking forward to 2016. I have aspirations to turn 'The Inside Job' into something, change my life, become a coach/trainer, develop greater learning, do an Ironman in under 13 hours, stop eating buttered meat, get healthier and turn this blog into a great little brand and help others. I want to work with people in recovery. I want to help people lose weight, get healthier, achieve their goals, manage addictions. I'm not sure how or what yet but I'm up for the challenge.
So Who's in for the ride? It maybe bumpy at times but you know what - it will be well worth it I promise you of that.
Have a good year everyone
Nicholas E Evans.
A New Year. A fresh start. A chance to set new goals and plan the next 12 months. Or lay on the sofa and slowly shit yourself at the thought of the return to normality tomorrow and put shit off for another year.
I'm not a big one for resolutions. It all seems a bit cosmetic. It's easy to write a 'wish list' of things to desire but the crucial bit is DOING it.
Does writing stuff down actually achieve anything? Here's the thing. Even if we sit on our arse for 365 days, stuff will happen because that's what life is. Perpetual movement of time, action and energy. The sun rises even if we sleep. The world will still turn. But how much does our attitude, our belief system and our actions affect our life?
How many people do you know complain about their job or relationship, that they are unlucky or are alone? It's no coincidence that people who complain the most seem to have the most bad luck. Do they have bad luck because they complain or do they complain because they have bad luck?
If I say 'I will NEVER' be able to give up smoking. Do you think I am just perpetuating that belief to keep me smoking even though I know its not serving me? Once I change my belief then the rest will follow.
How many of us today decided we want to join a gym, get fit, run a marathon, eat healthy, lose weight, change jobs, find a soul mate. Do these things happen by chance or does our attitude and life contribute?
January is a classic time to set out your objectives for the year. But Is it just me or does anyone else get a little daunted and overwhelmed? There is SO much information on New Year wish lists, fads, goals, retreats, exercise tips, lifestyle advice, health and wellness, stopping drinking, shaping up, getting the career you want. It's exhausting.
I actually get stressed wondering if my goals are good enough or beating myself up if I'm not really sure what they are specifically. FUCK!!!!! What do I Do?!!!! I even suffer anxiety that maybe I don't need any goals, that I'm Ok as I am. or am I just kidding myself? God it's SO stressful.
But the real question isn't WHAT do I want to do. It's HOW do I do it???!!
How the fuck do I change my life around? How do I lose this spare tyre that has built up from excessive shit eating? How do I get the job of my dreams? How do I get my soul mate? How do I get that life? How do I run a 3 hour marathon? Or, How do I decide what I actually bloody want?
So, to help you out with this Luckily I have Put together Top Ten Tip list to help you have an Amazing 2017. Here it is.
1 - Chill the fuck out. Do not stress yourself if you don't know what you want. You don't have to have a shopping list. Relax and take it easy
2 - Do stuff. The Ying to number 1's yang. Relax by all means and don't stress but you also have to do shit. Sitting on your lazy arse waiting for stuff to come to you is just a whole hunk of lazy arsed badness. I guarantee you'll be complaining in 12 months time if you take this attitude
3 - Be Bold But Realisitic - I'm all for setting incredible goals but make sure you start off with attainable ones. If you want to run a marathon for example, but haven't run since you nearly missed closing time at the offy last July, it's probably best you start with a 5 or 10k before building up. Aim big but keep those Dunlop green flash on the floor.
4 - Baby Steps DO count - Everyone thinks you need to have showy, incredible amazing goals. be a millionaire, launch a business, have an incredible life, run the world!! Lose 6 stone. Fuck that. Glory in the every day. Small victories count more than showy ones. By making tiny changes larger ones are born. Word up.
5 - Compare and Despair at your peril - There's nothing more guaranteed to bring you misery and demotivate you than comparing your goals and achievements with others on social media. Comparing yourself next to the high achieving lunatics on Facebook is guaranteed trouble. Instead go and hang out at the department of work and pensions every month. You'll feel like Donald Fucking Trump. Stick to your guns people. Own your own space. You're fine as you are.
6 - Keep it simple. No more needs to be said. We complicate shit far too much
7 - Laugh at yourself - How many coach's, fitness trainers, motivational speakers, self help gurus take themselves really seriously? Have you ever seen any laugh at themselves and promote having fun along the way. Since when did goal setting become SO serious? Don't forget to laugh at your own ridiculousness and have fun along the way.
8 - Don't beat yourself up - OK, so you may fall by the wayside? You may have bumps along the way. You may not even get what you set out to do. But fuck it. does it REALLY matter? Don't sweat and beat yourself up. It really doesn't matter. In the grand scheme of things its what you learn on the journey than the result anyway
9 - Observe the scenery - Take in the views of the journey. That's where the gold is.
10 - Get Help! Employ The Nick Evans (TNE) as your motivational coach and pay him for his motivational services and insightful genius allowing his personality and deep knowledge of disfunction and sabotaging success to allow you to achieve yours. (or get a good PT, coach, trainer, counsellor, attend 12 step fellowship or whatever you need but get help along the way) Or just read my blogs, buy my book and watch my videos.
YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT (Whatever it is)
Have a good year
Love you all big
Nicholas Edward Evans
My head always follows my feet. I have to put in action then the rest of me follows. In AA there is a wonderful saying. "Have smart feet" - no-one ever thought themselves well and thus it is about having smart feet and letting them take me to my Family's or to a meeting where the head will eventually settle and change. The committee will quieten and I can get on with my life.
Oh PS, don't worry, I'm not a saint by the way. I still managed to be a grumpy bastard, say something to a dear friend that pissed them off, was rude, abrupt and really horrible to someone else and made someone cry. I mean I'm not a spiritual guru or saint here. And that's when I'm trying to be nice. Jesus can you imagine me on a bad day?!! Happy New Year!
I know what I'm up against here. My head. It's like a turning a tanker round at times. From negative to positive. It doesn't come naturally. The mind and head is a powerful tool. Mental health and mood is so closely related to lifestyle yet sometimes I just don't see it. The self sabotage in me is strong. The self will iron like. But today was a simple example of change being a positive action rather than a word or thought. It can start right now. This minute.
Putting the Quality Street down. Picking up the phone to ask how someone is doing. Walking instead of taking a lift. Going to see your Mum instead of lazing on the sofa. Whatever it is/ they make you feel better. Small daily positive steps all add up and I found that out today. Do the opposite of wat my tired bad head says and I'll be alright.
I'm looking forward to 2016. I have aspirations to turn 'The Inside Job' into something, change my life, become a coach/trainer, develop greater learning, do an Ironman in under 13 hours, stop eating buttered meat, get healthier and turn this blog into a great little brand and help others. I want to work with people in recovery. I want to help people lose weight, get healthier, achieve their goals, manage addictions. I'm not sure how or what yet but I'm up for the challenge.
So Who's in for the ride? It maybe bumpy at times but you know what - it will be well worth it I promise you of that.
Have a good year everyone
Nicholas E Evans.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
New Years Eve 2016 and all that......
So here we are again folks. New Years Eve.
Jesus. I remember when the millennium was such a big deal. It's scary to think that was 17 years ago. I'm proper old now kids.
There's no doubting New Years Eve is massively over-rated. Pubs charge a fortune on the door, restaurants are packed and mundane parties are in abundance. False bonhomie is the drug of choice.
Many a time I have been stuck in a party I haven't wanted to be in, singing 'old lang syne' (badly) with people I didn't know who also couldn't remember the lyrics or what they meant.
Many give it a swerve. Staying in to watch on TV or go to bed before all the nonsense begins.
Others gather at houses to get wasted and eat yet more grub after the Xmas excess.
We are all different. I don't want appear a killjoy. I'm all for spending time with family or friends and seeing in the new year and also chilling alone and letting it pass. I'm not fussed either way.
It's much different from years ago where the night was seen as a good way to injest as much alcohol and drugs as possible, surfacing several days into the new year with a hangover that seemed to last a year.
My first sober new year in 2001 was truly horrific. I was 3 months sober, trying to hang on desperately to sobriety, in the grips of a full blown obsession with an ex-girlfriend (I didn't know what co-dependency was back then but fuck me do I now!) and running around London with a mate who was also in his early days of sobriety going to various meetings trying to keep away from the need to drink.
We ended up at an all night meeting in the East end, with a collection of old people dancing badly to some 60's hits. When the clock struck midnight, a dodgy piper in full kilt and garb walked in playing old lang syne. I looked at my mate. He looked at me. We shared each other's horror and thought. "Our life is officially over."
It was fucking horrific. I then spent the next 2 hours moaning to him that my ex-girlfriend hadn't texted me and created a scenario where she was out with a multi-millionaire having a great time, whilst I was stuck in Sadsville with no life or hope (she was in bed ill, on her own for the record)
My insane jealousy, alcoholic head and co-dependency was in full flight. But you know what. I didn't drink, we got home at 3am and I will never forget that first sober new year. It was the first of many. I'm glad to report they have improved over the years.
Some people are sad at this time of the year. Staying in alone wanting to be with others. Some are social creatures who love to be with people and enjoy the banter. Whatever you are, you are enough, you are Ok and you are a legend. DO NOT FORGET THAT!
So, what has your year been like? 2016 has been an odd one. We've lost some famous singers and artists. But does that REALLY affect us? It's not 2016 taking them it's the years of drug and alcohol use and the toll of fame and excess.
What has really disheartened me about George Michael, was a 53 year old man dying as a result of terrible addiction and a full denial of it from management, family and media. How the fuck can a 53 year old man die peacefully in his sleep. Why can't we have a proper open and honest society where addiction or alcoholism isn't seen as a negative or a dirty word but as a thing as normal as cancer? Why does it have to be hushed up or ignored?
The reaction to his death has been profound and interesting to say the least. His PR, management, press releases and family have asked to respect the privacy and not debate on such negatives if he was on drugs or how much they played a part in his death. HELLO?!!!
Was it not that denial of the truth that was part of the problem in the first place? The poor fucker was at the middle of it. Yes I know that the addict has to want to get well. Yes I know it has to come from within. Yes I know all of that. There is nothing you can do to stop them if the addict is hell bent on self destruction. But what you CAN do is accept it. What you CAN do is not deny it exists. What you CAN do is learn about addiction. What you CAN do is bring it out in the open as a problem no different from cancer.
It truly gets my goat that the ignorance and demonization of addiction continues, it seems celebrity deaths shine a light on such ignorance and denial further. GGGRRRRRRRRRR.
It may not save people from dying but it can certainly help family, friends, you and me be in a better position to help others help themselves if we know what we are dealing with. Surely it's time for a different dimension?
Anyway, rant over.
2016 for me was an odd year. Some good, some bad. I worked hard at a corporate job that was well paid, only to find at the end of the year corporate life isn't for me and I didn't enjoy it. That job passed and then the financial fear kicked in of course.
Another year passed without me achieving my dream. Purely because I've never really known or pinpointed what my dream is. If you don't know what it is how the hell can you shoot for it?
On the plus side, I have a little more money, I became a spin teacher, got a few more months sobriety under my belt, began writing again, met some wicked people and my life is better for it.
However on the negative side, the old habits of smoking, sweetener, diet coke, eating disorders, relationships, lack of focus, avoidance procrastination and fear based anxiety continued to haunt me. I began to realise they started to really affect my life at 44 in a way they didn't at 34.
I guess I've been like most of us. Go with the flow, get a job, get paid, do some enjoyable shit, do some less enjoyable shit, pay some bills, fuck around on Facebook, have family occasions and eat too many Quality Street at Christmas and then we arrive back here again. New Years Eve. Fuck!!
So, you know what? This year. 2017. I'm going to do some shit. I'm not going to say exactly what. But I will make 2017 a year of 'Into action'.
The blog will be written again, the book will form, I will make strides to become a motivational coach and my 'dreams' will be closer to reality than before.
I have spent so long in negativity. So many hours spent wasted. Time for a new way forward.
I'm not going to lie, I love a bit of procrastination and putting shit off until tomorrow. My bad habits aren't just habits but anchors to my living. They are not so easy to just stop. So I have to accept there will be a bit of that going on. But I make a commitment, right here and now that 2017 will see a year of action for The Nick Evans and it will look a whole lot different in 12 months time.
I hope you follow my journey. Because I am you. We are all in it together and if I can do shit, so can you. I believe in you. I just need to believe in me more!
I'm not going to suggest make resolutions. We have every day to do that. It won't harm you writing down some goals for 2017 though or planning things you'd like to achieve or do. It could be holidays, kids, marathons, fitness or health. Whatever they may be - let's just do them!
But lets do it holistically. So it becomes part of our life. As they say in AA, Easy does it but do it anyway.
The last thing i'll say for 2016. Something I've been thinking about over the past few days.
Why do I want to do things? If I smoke lots, drink tons of DC, eat badly at times, really screw my health up - is that not self sabotage? Many people who have kids or something big in their lives - change bad habits because of a higher purpose. Like a higher calling.
I was thinking for me, if I don't value enough in me as a reason to change and live a better life - what will be my higher purpose to do shit and change? To get on with things and stop waiting? To stop hiding behind fear and limiting self belief?
If my higher purpose isn't the best for myself then what? Get a child? Get a dog? I have seen people get these things thinking it will 'fix' them and it hasn't. I know that a purpose has to come from within. But I have witnessed two people do remarkable things this year for someone else because they had too. It was their higher purpose they would never have done for themselves. It was incredible to see. They would not have been able to do it on their own. But because they had a higher purpose it drove them through their fear and they did something they never thought they could and would do.
It showed me our limiting beliefs can be broken if we have a reason that drives us on. I've never really had one myself or known what it is.
And then it struck me. My higher purpose is you!! Yes YOU!!!
I love writing, I love doing blogs, I love speaking. I am desperate to turn it into something. Yet I have fallen silent for years because I haven't changed my habits. I haven't fixed myself. So I figured, I can't keep banging on about the same shit. So be quiet, shut up, concentrate on getting a job and crack on Nicholas. But I wasn't happy or satisfied.
Yes I am a massive show off. Arrogant, self seeking, attention seeking. Vulnerable, loud, full of issues, insane and slightly ridiculous. Who gives a fuck. We all are to some extent. And my moto for this year> To thine own self be true.
Well, you know what. I am not alone. I am part of the human race who struggle. Fuck me, we've seen some of the biggest names in the world die this year about the very thing I campaign about.
What is my reason for being? To normalise and de-stigmatise dysfunction, addiction, alcoholism and 'issues'. I don't stand for just addiction. I stand for all mental health and things that contribute people to suffer. Abuse, eating disorders, sex problems, addiction, alcoholism, families of alcoholics, illness, relationship problems. I'm for ALL of them.
In my experience, people who are unable to speak out or communicate their suffering make it worse. That's almost as harmful as the problem itself.
So, if I am to stand by anything. If I am to be anything. I am for openness. I am for honesty. I am for authenticity. I am for full disclosure. I will write, blog, video, speak and yell about all of these this year in the search for answers, for recovery, for solutions and for a healthier happier place around them.
Because if I can. Anyone can. And I will not rest until that's the case.
Fuck denial
Fuck suppression
Fuck bullshit
We are all in it together and let's give 2017 a good fucking crack, regardless of where we are at
Love you all very much
The Nicholas Edward Evans
xx
Jesus. I remember when the millennium was such a big deal. It's scary to think that was 17 years ago. I'm proper old now kids.
There's no doubting New Years Eve is massively over-rated. Pubs charge a fortune on the door, restaurants are packed and mundane parties are in abundance. False bonhomie is the drug of choice.
Many a time I have been stuck in a party I haven't wanted to be in, singing 'old lang syne' (badly) with people I didn't know who also couldn't remember the lyrics or what they meant.
Many give it a swerve. Staying in to watch on TV or go to bed before all the nonsense begins.
Others gather at houses to get wasted and eat yet more grub after the Xmas excess.
We are all different. I don't want appear a killjoy. I'm all for spending time with family or friends and seeing in the new year and also chilling alone and letting it pass. I'm not fussed either way.
It's much different from years ago where the night was seen as a good way to injest as much alcohol and drugs as possible, surfacing several days into the new year with a hangover that seemed to last a year.
My first sober new year in 2001 was truly horrific. I was 3 months sober, trying to hang on desperately to sobriety, in the grips of a full blown obsession with an ex-girlfriend (I didn't know what co-dependency was back then but fuck me do I now!) and running around London with a mate who was also in his early days of sobriety going to various meetings trying to keep away from the need to drink.
We ended up at an all night meeting in the East end, with a collection of old people dancing badly to some 60's hits. When the clock struck midnight, a dodgy piper in full kilt and garb walked in playing old lang syne. I looked at my mate. He looked at me. We shared each other's horror and thought. "Our life is officially over."
It was fucking horrific. I then spent the next 2 hours moaning to him that my ex-girlfriend hadn't texted me and created a scenario where she was out with a multi-millionaire having a great time, whilst I was stuck in Sadsville with no life or hope (she was in bed ill, on her own for the record)
My insane jealousy, alcoholic head and co-dependency was in full flight. But you know what. I didn't drink, we got home at 3am and I will never forget that first sober new year. It was the first of many. I'm glad to report they have improved over the years.
Some people are sad at this time of the year. Staying in alone wanting to be with others. Some are social creatures who love to be with people and enjoy the banter. Whatever you are, you are enough, you are Ok and you are a legend. DO NOT FORGET THAT!
So, what has your year been like? 2016 has been an odd one. We've lost some famous singers and artists. But does that REALLY affect us? It's not 2016 taking them it's the years of drug and alcohol use and the toll of fame and excess.
What has really disheartened me about George Michael, was a 53 year old man dying as a result of terrible addiction and a full denial of it from management, family and media. How the fuck can a 53 year old man die peacefully in his sleep. Why can't we have a proper open and honest society where addiction or alcoholism isn't seen as a negative or a dirty word but as a thing as normal as cancer? Why does it have to be hushed up or ignored?
The reaction to his death has been profound and interesting to say the least. His PR, management, press releases and family have asked to respect the privacy and not debate on such negatives if he was on drugs or how much they played a part in his death. HELLO?!!!
Was it not that denial of the truth that was part of the problem in the first place? The poor fucker was at the middle of it. Yes I know that the addict has to want to get well. Yes I know it has to come from within. Yes I know all of that. There is nothing you can do to stop them if the addict is hell bent on self destruction. But what you CAN do is accept it. What you CAN do is not deny it exists. What you CAN do is learn about addiction. What you CAN do is bring it out in the open as a problem no different from cancer.
It truly gets my goat that the ignorance and demonization of addiction continues, it seems celebrity deaths shine a light on such ignorance and denial further. GGGRRRRRRRRRR.
It may not save people from dying but it can certainly help family, friends, you and me be in a better position to help others help themselves if we know what we are dealing with. Surely it's time for a different dimension?
Anyway, rant over.
2016 for me was an odd year. Some good, some bad. I worked hard at a corporate job that was well paid, only to find at the end of the year corporate life isn't for me and I didn't enjoy it. That job passed and then the financial fear kicked in of course.
Another year passed without me achieving my dream. Purely because I've never really known or pinpointed what my dream is. If you don't know what it is how the hell can you shoot for it?
On the plus side, I have a little more money, I became a spin teacher, got a few more months sobriety under my belt, began writing again, met some wicked people and my life is better for it.
However on the negative side, the old habits of smoking, sweetener, diet coke, eating disorders, relationships, lack of focus, avoidance procrastination and fear based anxiety continued to haunt me. I began to realise they started to really affect my life at 44 in a way they didn't at 34.
I guess I've been like most of us. Go with the flow, get a job, get paid, do some enjoyable shit, do some less enjoyable shit, pay some bills, fuck around on Facebook, have family occasions and eat too many Quality Street at Christmas and then we arrive back here again. New Years Eve. Fuck!!
So, you know what? This year. 2017. I'm going to do some shit. I'm not going to say exactly what. But I will make 2017 a year of 'Into action'.
The blog will be written again, the book will form, I will make strides to become a motivational coach and my 'dreams' will be closer to reality than before.
I have spent so long in negativity. So many hours spent wasted. Time for a new way forward.
I'm not going to lie, I love a bit of procrastination and putting shit off until tomorrow. My bad habits aren't just habits but anchors to my living. They are not so easy to just stop. So I have to accept there will be a bit of that going on. But I make a commitment, right here and now that 2017 will see a year of action for The Nick Evans and it will look a whole lot different in 12 months time.
I hope you follow my journey. Because I am you. We are all in it together and if I can do shit, so can you. I believe in you. I just need to believe in me more!
I'm not going to suggest make resolutions. We have every day to do that. It won't harm you writing down some goals for 2017 though or planning things you'd like to achieve or do. It could be holidays, kids, marathons, fitness or health. Whatever they may be - let's just do them!
But lets do it holistically. So it becomes part of our life. As they say in AA, Easy does it but do it anyway.
The last thing i'll say for 2016. Something I've been thinking about over the past few days.
Why do I want to do things? If I smoke lots, drink tons of DC, eat badly at times, really screw my health up - is that not self sabotage? Many people who have kids or something big in their lives - change bad habits because of a higher purpose. Like a higher calling.
I was thinking for me, if I don't value enough in me as a reason to change and live a better life - what will be my higher purpose to do shit and change? To get on with things and stop waiting? To stop hiding behind fear and limiting self belief?
If my higher purpose isn't the best for myself then what? Get a child? Get a dog? I have seen people get these things thinking it will 'fix' them and it hasn't. I know that a purpose has to come from within. But I have witnessed two people do remarkable things this year for someone else because they had too. It was their higher purpose they would never have done for themselves. It was incredible to see. They would not have been able to do it on their own. But because they had a higher purpose it drove them through their fear and they did something they never thought they could and would do.
It showed me our limiting beliefs can be broken if we have a reason that drives us on. I've never really had one myself or known what it is.
And then it struck me. My higher purpose is you!! Yes YOU!!!
I love writing, I love doing blogs, I love speaking. I am desperate to turn it into something. Yet I have fallen silent for years because I haven't changed my habits. I haven't fixed myself. So I figured, I can't keep banging on about the same shit. So be quiet, shut up, concentrate on getting a job and crack on Nicholas. But I wasn't happy or satisfied.
Yes I am a massive show off. Arrogant, self seeking, attention seeking. Vulnerable, loud, full of issues, insane and slightly ridiculous. Who gives a fuck. We all are to some extent. And my moto for this year> To thine own self be true.
Well, you know what. I am not alone. I am part of the human race who struggle. Fuck me, we've seen some of the biggest names in the world die this year about the very thing I campaign about.
What is my reason for being? To normalise and de-stigmatise dysfunction, addiction, alcoholism and 'issues'. I don't stand for just addiction. I stand for all mental health and things that contribute people to suffer. Abuse, eating disorders, sex problems, addiction, alcoholism, families of alcoholics, illness, relationship problems. I'm for ALL of them.
In my experience, people who are unable to speak out or communicate their suffering make it worse. That's almost as harmful as the problem itself.
So, if I am to stand by anything. If I am to be anything. I am for openness. I am for honesty. I am for authenticity. I am for full disclosure. I will write, blog, video, speak and yell about all of these this year in the search for answers, for recovery, for solutions and for a healthier happier place around them.
Because if I can. Anyone can. And I will not rest until that's the case.
Fuck denial
Fuck suppression
Fuck bullshit
We are all in it together and let's give 2017 a good fucking crack, regardless of where we are at
Love you all very much
The Nicholas Edward Evans
xx
Thursday, December 29, 2016
The Return of Me Versus ManFlu
It's Official. I've got Man flu for the 3rd time in 6 weeks. Kill me now.
Experienced ManFluers will know the three main warning signs:
Firstly the tickly chest and cough. As a smoker I put it down to years of Silk Cut, but I knew something was lurking. I soldiered on over Christmas. Stoically eating everything in my path and helping others have a good time, but I knew I was a dead man walking.
Secondly, the sneezing and blocked nose. This began on Boxing Day. Again I can handle this. "It's just a cold." I kept telling myself. Like a boy whistling in the dark. I carried on exercising and doing shit. "I'm not going to let some poxy cold slow me down." became my Mantra. How foolish I was.
You cannot beat The Man Flu. He is cunning and patient and a real bastard. "Just you wait knob-head. I'll get you" He sneers.
And then, it hit me. The Third element of the holy trinity. The knockout blow. The count to ten punch. The true sign of ManFlu. The aching bones and energy zap. "NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Please don't rob me of energy. Take my nose, take my throat, take anything just not my energy or my bones!!!" That's where the true misery kicks in.
He didn't do this at home. Oh no. He waited until I was out, in the middle of a packed central London before hitting me like a train. BOOM! What a cunt.
I slowed to crawling pace. Patience has never been my strong point, but when you add in huge crowds, people in the way, sub zero temperatures and an aching flu that makes you feel like death warmed up. The happy go lucky persona is replaced by Dr Death.
"Ah aren't the Christmas lights so pretty in Regent Street." is replaced with, "Fuck sake, it's too bright and hurts my eyes. Wankers."
"I wonder if I can get a bargain in the sales" is replaced with, "What a load of shit on sale. I hate shopping.Wankers"
And finally, "I love the West End, it's such a buzz at Christmas." is replaced with, "God The West End is a shithole and I hate everyone here."
It's amazing how in the blink of an eye, the man flu can rob you of all humanity, kindness, spirit and turn you into Hitler within minutes.
The wonder of the world is replaced with a self centred, self piteous whine that only fighting the masses will satisfy. If only you had the energy.
Instead, you have to contend with battling your way home to immediately post on social media that you are ill again and spend the next few days forlornly checking for likes and sympathy attention from friends who have no sympathy at all.
You attempt humour but the veneer of hatred is too much and you give in to re-runs of Harry Potter Movies and old Only Fools and Horses on UK TV Gold. Various updates become hollow and you become sick of yourself, let alone others. Then it really is time to suffer alone, in private. That's when the true horror of man flu begins.
It's the 3rd time in 6 weeks this little fucker is back. I doubt he ever really left. Sticking to me like some kind of Genetically modified super bug. Or a distant relative over-staying their welcome at Christmas.
You all know you hate each other, but there is no getting away from the fact they are a wanker and you're stuck with them for a week or so. Try getting rid of them for a week or two and then seeing them come back. That is truly disheartening.
So, I sit here at 5.41am. I can't sleep. I have no energy to go for a walk or exercise. Smoking hurts my chest. I can't boat tons of diet coke as I need water and I have nothing in me to even contemplate energetic sexual adventure (my get out clause for fun and excitement.) - So thank you Man Flu, you've pretty much robbed me of my entire life.
What else is there?
As a recovering alcoholic I am prone to bouts of melo-drama and over sensitivity. So a third bout of ManFlu is obviously is a disaster. All I see are days of empty vacuous suicidal nothingness ahead. Like Nomania on steroids. It's grim folks. Truly dark.
In addition I like to diagnose myself too. Dr Evans only needs to Google his symptoms before settling on a rare form of Lukemia and blood cancer with chronic fatigue syndrome too. Who needs doctors when you have Google.
Of course, none of this is reality. But why let the facts get in the way of a good self indulgent wallow in misery? It is after-all, the devine right and pleasure of the addict/alcoholic to wallow in it like a messy bog. Especially at 5 in the morning. Fuck me, that's the perfect time. Insomniacs and people with mental illness will concur.
The small hours cling to you like a suffocating cloak. Enveloping you. The minutes tick by at half pace playing with your mind. Everything seems worse. If ManFlu is added to the mix, (where everything is becomes bible black), what you get is a big old pot of shit black stew. And nobody likes to eat that.
So, what's the answer? How can you ride it out?
Well, perspective helps. There's plenty of people homeless this morning waking up (if they are lucky) frozen solid. There are plenty of people displaced in the world. There are plenty of people disadvantaged. Doing Crisis showed me that. I am very fortunate.
There are people in loveless marriages, or alone and unhappy or estranged from loved ones. There are people grieving lost family members or celebrities they didn't know. There are angry knobheads shouting at people for no reason or the just plan stupid. There are people unhappy and struggling
So many worse off than me.
I am lucky.
I had a Christmas.
I received presents
The Man Flu will go. (I hope)
And I will get through this.
Perspective Nicholas. Perspective!
That's obviously the logical public thing to thing and say. But when you are on the wrong end of 3 hours kip, can't breathe, bones are aching like you've been in a car smash (and I have, so I know how it feels) and blinking is hard let alone moving, NONE of that matters.
Fuck Syria
Fuck the homeless
Fuck those less fortunate than me
Fuck everything
Fuck everyone
I don't feel well and I want some fucking sympathy. (but not too much as that will be annoying)
Fuck you ManFlu. You can bugger off now
PS - I've decided to write again in 2017. I like it and so do others apparently.
Nicholas Edward Evans
Experienced ManFluers will know the three main warning signs:
Firstly the tickly chest and cough. As a smoker I put it down to years of Silk Cut, but I knew something was lurking. I soldiered on over Christmas. Stoically eating everything in my path and helping others have a good time, but I knew I was a dead man walking.
Secondly, the sneezing and blocked nose. This began on Boxing Day. Again I can handle this. "It's just a cold." I kept telling myself. Like a boy whistling in the dark. I carried on exercising and doing shit. "I'm not going to let some poxy cold slow me down." became my Mantra. How foolish I was.
You cannot beat The Man Flu. He is cunning and patient and a real bastard. "Just you wait knob-head. I'll get you" He sneers.
And then, it hit me. The Third element of the holy trinity. The knockout blow. The count to ten punch. The true sign of ManFlu. The aching bones and energy zap. "NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Please don't rob me of energy. Take my nose, take my throat, take anything just not my energy or my bones!!!" That's where the true misery kicks in.
He didn't do this at home. Oh no. He waited until I was out, in the middle of a packed central London before hitting me like a train. BOOM! What a cunt.
I slowed to crawling pace. Patience has never been my strong point, but when you add in huge crowds, people in the way, sub zero temperatures and an aching flu that makes you feel like death warmed up. The happy go lucky persona is replaced by Dr Death.
"Ah aren't the Christmas lights so pretty in Regent Street." is replaced with, "Fuck sake, it's too bright and hurts my eyes. Wankers."
"I wonder if I can get a bargain in the sales" is replaced with, "What a load of shit on sale. I hate shopping.Wankers"
And finally, "I love the West End, it's such a buzz at Christmas." is replaced with, "God The West End is a shithole and I hate everyone here."
It's amazing how in the blink of an eye, the man flu can rob you of all humanity, kindness, spirit and turn you into Hitler within minutes.
The wonder of the world is replaced with a self centred, self piteous whine that only fighting the masses will satisfy. If only you had the energy.
Instead, you have to contend with battling your way home to immediately post on social media that you are ill again and spend the next few days forlornly checking for likes and sympathy attention from friends who have no sympathy at all.
You attempt humour but the veneer of hatred is too much and you give in to re-runs of Harry Potter Movies and old Only Fools and Horses on UK TV Gold. Various updates become hollow and you become sick of yourself, let alone others. Then it really is time to suffer alone, in private. That's when the true horror of man flu begins.
It's the 3rd time in 6 weeks this little fucker is back. I doubt he ever really left. Sticking to me like some kind of Genetically modified super bug. Or a distant relative over-staying their welcome at Christmas.
You all know you hate each other, but there is no getting away from the fact they are a wanker and you're stuck with them for a week or so. Try getting rid of them for a week or two and then seeing them come back. That is truly disheartening.
So, I sit here at 5.41am. I can't sleep. I have no energy to go for a walk or exercise. Smoking hurts my chest. I can't boat tons of diet coke as I need water and I have nothing in me to even contemplate energetic sexual adventure (my get out clause for fun and excitement.) - So thank you Man Flu, you've pretty much robbed me of my entire life.
What else is there?
As a recovering alcoholic I am prone to bouts of melo-drama and over sensitivity. So a third bout of ManFlu is obviously is a disaster. All I see are days of empty vacuous suicidal nothingness ahead. Like Nomania on steroids. It's grim folks. Truly dark.
In addition I like to diagnose myself too. Dr Evans only needs to Google his symptoms before settling on a rare form of Lukemia and blood cancer with chronic fatigue syndrome too. Who needs doctors when you have Google.
Of course, none of this is reality. But why let the facts get in the way of a good self indulgent wallow in misery? It is after-all, the devine right and pleasure of the addict/alcoholic to wallow in it like a messy bog. Especially at 5 in the morning. Fuck me, that's the perfect time. Insomniacs and people with mental illness will concur.
The small hours cling to you like a suffocating cloak. Enveloping you. The minutes tick by at half pace playing with your mind. Everything seems worse. If ManFlu is added to the mix, (where everything is becomes bible black), what you get is a big old pot of shit black stew. And nobody likes to eat that.
So, what's the answer? How can you ride it out?
Well, perspective helps. There's plenty of people homeless this morning waking up (if they are lucky) frozen solid. There are plenty of people displaced in the world. There are plenty of people disadvantaged. Doing Crisis showed me that. I am very fortunate.
There are people in loveless marriages, or alone and unhappy or estranged from loved ones. There are people grieving lost family members or celebrities they didn't know. There are angry knobheads shouting at people for no reason or the just plan stupid. There are people unhappy and struggling
So many worse off than me.
I am lucky.
I had a Christmas.
I received presents
The Man Flu will go. (I hope)
And I will get through this.
Perspective Nicholas. Perspective!
That's obviously the logical public thing to thing and say. But when you are on the wrong end of 3 hours kip, can't breathe, bones are aching like you've been in a car smash (and I have, so I know how it feels) and blinking is hard let alone moving, NONE of that matters.
Fuck Syria
Fuck the homeless
Fuck those less fortunate than me
Fuck everything
Fuck everyone
I don't feel well and I want some fucking sympathy. (but not too much as that will be annoying)
Fuck you ManFlu. You can bugger off now
PS - I've decided to write again in 2017. I like it and so do others apparently.
Nicholas Edward Evans
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Walking f*****g Football.
It's been a grouchy week. Most things have annoyed me.
I know, I know, people working a 12 step programme will be saying, 'read page 417 in the Big Book. Acceptance is the answer Nicholas, when I am annoyed it is more about something that I'M NOT doing, rather than the recipient of the annoyance.
I get that. I really do. I am responsible for my own attitude. If I don't sleep enough, eat well, live properly and make good decisions it can niggle away inside and turn me into a miserable angry sod.
I know logically It is NOT acceptable to keep pointing the finger at people covering up my own deficiencies. I am critical at the best of times. One of my worst traits. Being an ego maniac attention seeking recovering alcoholic Virgo means I am prone to bouts of intolerance and criticism. Both against me and pretty much everything and everyone.
Sometimes being locked in self will and ego creates this disharmony with the world around me. And i'm on collision course with it.
That's where faith and a higher power comes in. It's a personal opinion of course whether you choose to believe or not. Some people are more akin to personal responsibility rejecting the notion of a higher force. Others are all about faith and spend their life with grazed knees praying for pretty much everything.
Me? I have a difficult relationship with faith and God. I'm not really sure where I sit to be honest. I'm sold on the concept of a higher being or force or spirirt. I'm pretty sure I believe in something other than me. I see things happening to others which helps me access that faith and belief.
it's usually without you knowing and usually in a very subtle way. Whatever it is I think it's through other people. Either people being placed in your path to change the direction of your life, having a life changing incident or simply a connection with a particular group or community. Whatever it is I need it and it helps to change my mind, take me out of 'planet Nick' (or ego) and receive a new tuned in headspace.
Having said all that spiritual rational healthy fair minded shit, some people are fucking annoying. And this world is totally insane.
And somethings get right on my tits.
And sometimes I get fucking well cunting angry
Miserable people, sloany pubs, mobility scooters with able bodied people dressed in tracksuits driving to the pub, gentrification of London, The traffic, too many people up too early. Prams that are like SUV's, Life coaches selling you yet another spiritual 'how to live your life successfully' book. The list goes on ad infintum..
But yesterday I had a 'God incident' that helped take me out of this grouch and self induced egoic grump
Yesterday I did my exercise in the morning, practiced yoga, posted a video about some mild annoyances I had, got frustrated in yet more London traffic and went to see some friends on Richmond Green for the May Day fair.
Now Richmond is a place that is effectively The Daily Telegraph. Full of middle classed families wheeling around snivelling loud kids in prams the size of SUV's. The amount of courdroy on display is ridiculous. Whole Foods is like a mecca for all these fuckers and the May Day fair was going to be like a 'wanker rally'. Or so I thought.
There was bound to be a farmers market with 'black pudding scotch eggs at £4 a pop, a Himalyan Bath salt stand and the inevitiable 'bespoke cupcakes'. I braced myself for the tolerance tester.
I was taking myself way too seriously of course, which was rather ironic seeing as I was dressed like camp icon in lycra shorts and flip flops after training.
I settled down with the troops. Observing people just having a fun family afternoon, save for the occasional heroin addict passed out on the green. It was a 'nice' afternoon. The head was reasonably quiet but I still had an underlying niggle.
I was sat with my friends parents. Lovely 70 year old former teachers. Retired and dressed appropriately as OAP's in fleeces with grey hair. I had a good chat, learnt a lot and liked it.
Then it happened. My God incident. Out of nowehere an old gentleman of around 75 came up to me. Missing out the rest of the group. He arrowed straight to me and got right up in my face as I sat on the grass.
"Do you like Football?"
I paused for a second. My ego thought 'of course I fucking do I worked in the Premier League for 10 years. I'm a legend. Don't you know who I think I am?"
Instead I replied, "Yes I do. But I prefer triathlon these days' This was rather obvious so I thought, seeing as I was dressed in lycra showing off my muscular legs with the overly tight top I had carefully chosen to show off the guns.
"Great. Well take this, (handing me a flyer) we meet every Weds at 10.30 on Old Deer Park. Come along."
Before I had a chance to look at the flyer and take it in. He was off. Disappearing into the yonder.
I looked down and read the flyer. How fucking dare he! It was for walking football for the Over 50's!!!!
Walking Football on Weds mornings at 10.30. Walking fucking football!!! For OAP's. Walking fucking football?!!! Me? Walking Football. I was stunned.
Why didn't he give it to the OAP's I was sat next too? He only targeted me in the whole park. I didn't see him give any more out. It was just me.
I looked at the guys and I said, "did that just really happen?"
It was almost as much as a stunning blow of being called "big lad" during the marathon!! The Nick Evans Ego was bent right out of shape at this one. Walking fucking football? Are you kidding me?!
I read the flyer again and again. "For more information contact Jill at Richmond Age Concern. I'm getting right on the email to Jill on Monday I tell you.
I was mortified. I comforted myself by asking the whole group, "do I look over 50?" "Am I looking old?"
I mean I know I was up late the night before and smoking does age you but walking fucking football!!!! For OAP's. Didn't he know who the fuck I am? I did an Ironman last year don't you know. I was fresh out of Warrior training in my lycras. There was no fleece to be seen.
Walking football. Fucking bastard, How dare he!!
And Weds morning at 10.30am. Do I look like I'm retired and don't work? Do I look like I can mince about in the park of a Weds morning. Jill was going to cop a right earful on her email. Walking bloody football. Bastards!
Of course, after the initial 'what the fuck' had died down, I went searching for him, determined to have a fist fight with an OAP flyer distributor by the Dog Show and 'Himalayan Bath salt stand.
I read the flyer again, calmed down, took a step back, chuckled and then it came to me. It was God giving me a nudge. He was taking the piss. Don't take yourself so seriously Nicholas and lighten the fuck up.
He obviously sent the flyer guy into my path to deflate the ego and make me laugh at myself. It worked, I laughed at my utter ridiculousness.
On my own I struggle to get out of my own way. To get out of my own head. To gain a new perspective. I usually get this from other people. From meetings. From listening.
On this occasion this skud missile of a leaflet distributor was directly sent to me to change my perspective. The Higher Power certainly has a decent sense of humour. Of that there is no doubt. It was because he didn't target anyone else in the vicinity and buggered off immediately. It was one of those 'did that just happen' moments. Genuinely odd but I liked it. It was a power greater than myself changing the nature of my head, attitude, perspective and day.
So there we have it. That's my spiritual maxim for the day. God does work in very mysterious ways and if there is one thing I must not do today. Take myself so God dammed seriously!
I tell you what though, I'm taking a day off work on Weds to go and play 'walking fucking football' at Old Deer Park. I'm going to get stuck right in. My ego now demands to be man of the match and score a hat-trick, though to be fair, I reckon I stand a decent chance as my nearest competition is Stan, who's 90, with 2 bad hips and a walking stick. Reckon i'll give him a crunching tackle early doors and show him who's boss. I need to own that fucking game.
Nobody fucks with The Nick Evans. Walking Football my arse.
Love and peace
Nicholas Evans
I know, I know, people working a 12 step programme will be saying, 'read page 417 in the Big Book. Acceptance is the answer Nicholas, when I am annoyed it is more about something that I'M NOT doing, rather than the recipient of the annoyance.
I get that. I really do. I am responsible for my own attitude. If I don't sleep enough, eat well, live properly and make good decisions it can niggle away inside and turn me into a miserable angry sod.
I know logically It is NOT acceptable to keep pointing the finger at people covering up my own deficiencies. I am critical at the best of times. One of my worst traits. Being an ego maniac attention seeking recovering alcoholic Virgo means I am prone to bouts of intolerance and criticism. Both against me and pretty much everything and everyone.
Sometimes being locked in self will and ego creates this disharmony with the world around me. And i'm on collision course with it.
That's where faith and a higher power comes in. It's a personal opinion of course whether you choose to believe or not. Some people are more akin to personal responsibility rejecting the notion of a higher force. Others are all about faith and spend their life with grazed knees praying for pretty much everything.
Me? I have a difficult relationship with faith and God. I'm not really sure where I sit to be honest. I'm sold on the concept of a higher being or force or spirirt. I'm pretty sure I believe in something other than me. I see things happening to others which helps me access that faith and belief.
it's usually without you knowing and usually in a very subtle way. Whatever it is I think it's through other people. Either people being placed in your path to change the direction of your life, having a life changing incident or simply a connection with a particular group or community. Whatever it is I need it and it helps to change my mind, take me out of 'planet Nick' (or ego) and receive a new tuned in headspace.
Having said all that spiritual rational healthy fair minded shit, some people are fucking annoying. And this world is totally insane.
And somethings get right on my tits.
And sometimes I get fucking well cunting angry
Miserable people, sloany pubs, mobility scooters with able bodied people dressed in tracksuits driving to the pub, gentrification of London, The traffic, too many people up too early. Prams that are like SUV's, Life coaches selling you yet another spiritual 'how to live your life successfully' book. The list goes on ad infintum..
But yesterday I had a 'God incident' that helped take me out of this grouch and self induced egoic grump
Yesterday I did my exercise in the morning, practiced yoga, posted a video about some mild annoyances I had, got frustrated in yet more London traffic and went to see some friends on Richmond Green for the May Day fair.
Now Richmond is a place that is effectively The Daily Telegraph. Full of middle classed families wheeling around snivelling loud kids in prams the size of SUV's. The amount of courdroy on display is ridiculous. Whole Foods is like a mecca for all these fuckers and the May Day fair was going to be like a 'wanker rally'. Or so I thought.
There was bound to be a farmers market with 'black pudding scotch eggs at £4 a pop, a Himalyan Bath salt stand and the inevitiable 'bespoke cupcakes'. I braced myself for the tolerance tester.
I was taking myself way too seriously of course, which was rather ironic seeing as I was dressed like camp icon in lycra shorts and flip flops after training.
I settled down with the troops. Observing people just having a fun family afternoon, save for the occasional heroin addict passed out on the green. It was a 'nice' afternoon. The head was reasonably quiet but I still had an underlying niggle.
I was sat with my friends parents. Lovely 70 year old former teachers. Retired and dressed appropriately as OAP's in fleeces with grey hair. I had a good chat, learnt a lot and liked it.
Then it happened. My God incident. Out of nowehere an old gentleman of around 75 came up to me. Missing out the rest of the group. He arrowed straight to me and got right up in my face as I sat on the grass.
"Do you like Football?"
I paused for a second. My ego thought 'of course I fucking do I worked in the Premier League for 10 years. I'm a legend. Don't you know who I think I am?"
Instead I replied, "Yes I do. But I prefer triathlon these days' This was rather obvious so I thought, seeing as I was dressed in lycra showing off my muscular legs with the overly tight top I had carefully chosen to show off the guns.
"Great. Well take this, (handing me a flyer) we meet every Weds at 10.30 on Old Deer Park. Come along."
Before I had a chance to look at the flyer and take it in. He was off. Disappearing into the yonder.
I looked down and read the flyer. How fucking dare he! It was for walking football for the Over 50's!!!!
Walking Football on Weds mornings at 10.30. Walking fucking football!!! For OAP's. Walking fucking football?!!! Me? Walking Football. I was stunned.
Why didn't he give it to the OAP's I was sat next too? He only targeted me in the whole park. I didn't see him give any more out. It was just me.
I looked at the guys and I said, "did that just really happen?"
It was almost as much as a stunning blow of being called "big lad" during the marathon!! The Nick Evans Ego was bent right out of shape at this one. Walking fucking football? Are you kidding me?!
I read the flyer again and again. "For more information contact Jill at Richmond Age Concern. I'm getting right on the email to Jill on Monday I tell you.
I was mortified. I comforted myself by asking the whole group, "do I look over 50?" "Am I looking old?"
I mean I know I was up late the night before and smoking does age you but walking fucking football!!!! For OAP's. Didn't he know who the fuck I am? I did an Ironman last year don't you know. I was fresh out of Warrior training in my lycras. There was no fleece to be seen.
Walking football. Fucking bastard, How dare he!!
And Weds morning at 10.30am. Do I look like I'm retired and don't work? Do I look like I can mince about in the park of a Weds morning. Jill was going to cop a right earful on her email. Walking bloody football. Bastards!
Of course, after the initial 'what the fuck' had died down, I went searching for him, determined to have a fist fight with an OAP flyer distributor by the Dog Show and 'Himalayan Bath salt stand.
I read the flyer again, calmed down, took a step back, chuckled and then it came to me. It was God giving me a nudge. He was taking the piss. Don't take yourself so seriously Nicholas and lighten the fuck up.
He obviously sent the flyer guy into my path to deflate the ego and make me laugh at myself. It worked, I laughed at my utter ridiculousness.
On my own I struggle to get out of my own way. To get out of my own head. To gain a new perspective. I usually get this from other people. From meetings. From listening.
On this occasion this skud missile of a leaflet distributor was directly sent to me to change my perspective. The Higher Power certainly has a decent sense of humour. Of that there is no doubt. It was because he didn't target anyone else in the vicinity and buggered off immediately. It was one of those 'did that just happen' moments. Genuinely odd but I liked it. It was a power greater than myself changing the nature of my head, attitude, perspective and day.
So there we have it. That's my spiritual maxim for the day. God does work in very mysterious ways and if there is one thing I must not do today. Take myself so God dammed seriously!
I tell you what though, I'm taking a day off work on Weds to go and play 'walking fucking football' at Old Deer Park. I'm going to get stuck right in. My ego now demands to be man of the match and score a hat-trick, though to be fair, I reckon I stand a decent chance as my nearest competition is Stan, who's 90, with 2 bad hips and a walking stick. Reckon i'll give him a crunching tackle early doors and show him who's boss. I need to own that fucking game.
Nobody fucks with The Nick Evans. Walking Football my arse.
Love and peace
Nicholas Evans
Monday, May 2, 2016
My 2016 London Marathon - This is One Hurt....
I'm writing this a week after the race. well, when I say race, it was for some, not for me. The only thing I raced was the guy with the washine machine on his back and he cruised past me at 21 miles. It wasn't a good marathon for me.
This one hurt. I mean proper hurt. Not the hurt that fades within a few hours like a mild hangover. No this one is like a 7 day hangover with blurred vision and shit.
My legs are still like stale baguettes and I'm walking like I've been f**d senseless. It's not a good look. It really isn't.
All week I've been travelling around London on the tube, sliding up stairs sideways and going down backwards. My carefully styled image has taken a battering. The only slight mirth I have experienced is seeing other people across the stairwell doing exactly the same. Sharing that knowing glance. Brothers and sisters united in lactic acid.
Not all are like this of course. I've met several annoying bastards who ran under 3hrs 30 and look as fresh as a Virgin's quim. They were best avoided as I wrapped myself in self hatred and pain.
I'm grumpy. I didn't enjoy this marathon, ( my seventh London ),for many reasons, mostly self induced. But I wanted to share with my experience, my head and the outcome to help you get a handle of what it's like to be a recovering alcoholic, 14 years sober and still as mad as a box of frogs.
I ran it for Action on Addiction because the disease is close to my heart. Not only has it killed members of my family but i'm one too. Part of the reason for writing my blog is to lift the lid on the alcoholic mind so people can try to understand the disease a bit more and make it more acceptable in society. I like to think it's my little bit for educating and 'normalising' the disease.
I'm an addict. I'm 15 years into recovery, but i'm still an addict. I still think like one, have tendencies of one & behave like one. It's in my DNA.
The personality and character of an addict is prone to bouts of self hatred, self destruction, anger, intolerance, self obsession, high ego and low self esteem. I know everyone has these to some lesser or greater degree but I have them in bucket loads which makes normal rational thinking somewhat elusive sometimes. This contributed heavily to my marathon experience.
There were other factors of course, normal human reactions, my own stupidity, male pride but there was a large sprinkling of good old fashioned alcoholic thinking
Oh, also, before I forget I have food issues and body dysmorphia. These don't help either.
So that's the disclaimer out of the way. It's important you know all of that before reading what i'm about to put. It doesn't mean my thinking or perception is right. You may shake your head and think, 'for God's sake Nick' but I wanted to be honest and open.
It gives context to my Marathon experience. Ok? Ready? Here Goes;
Preperation.
Most standard marathon advice encourages you to book your space well in advance and do a solid 16 weeks of training for the big day. As a veteran of 6 London's you would have thought I know the drill by now. Well you'd be wrong. Underneath this largesse of tan and quiff lays a deeply stupid man.
I got a text from a pal in February/March, saying "a friend of mine can't run the marathon for AOA, can you?" I thought about it for a few minutes, remembering all the pain and suffering and how I shat myself in 2013. I remembered the blisters and torture. How little training I had done over the past 6 months. Only an idiot would attempt to run the marathon with 8 weeks notice and no training. I texted back, "sure". See what I'm dealing with here?
My attitude was, "fuck it I've done 6 of them i'll be alright." and, most crucially, it was an opportunity to run around London with 1 million people applauding and shouting my name. What's not to like about that? It's like the equivalent of 1,000 likes on Facebook or 50 shares of a particularly good picture. A self obsessed alcoholics' dream. I'm in!
I thought having completed Wales Ironman in September which was without doubt the longest and most painful day of my life. 14 hours and 19 minutes of sheer purgatory. This would be like a walk in the park compared to that. London Marathon? Piece of Piss!" - That arrogant disrespect of 26.2 miles was to prove costly.
The Marathon Gods heard my folly, 'That Nick Evans is being a bit lairy isn't he? We best fuck him up on the 24th April. I'm not having anyone take the piss out of me." The Marathon Gods had spoken. My fate was sealed.
Training
Part of the fun of participating in the marathon is the training throughout the long winter months. The long runs at the weekend, short sharp runs on cold, dark winter evening's. Even the gym sessions are interesting as you build towards your goal. It's part of the journey. Experienced marathon runners will tell you it's important to get the base fitness in the winter, add some speed and strength during the spring and slap in a couple of shorter races to tune up for the big day.
Me? Well I spent the winter gorging on processed meat and slamming as man silk cut and diet cokes down my neck as possible. The weekends consisted of staying up late pursuing non spiritual activities and the only thing short and sharp I did on winter evenings was a sauna. Its fair to say I entered into the marathon late without much in the way of base fitness other than the deluded part of my mind that thought, 'fuck it i'll be alright'. The Marathon gods laughed at this continued madness.
Don't get me wrong, when I did agree to do it, I did do some training. Dear Lord i'm not that mad. I slapped in a few hill sprints, did a few lap's and a bit of Richmond park (10 miles) and entered a half marathon. All too little too late though. My pal who's a serious sub 3 hour runner with a coach and plan and a goal and everything advised me to do a couple of long 20 mile runs before the day, 'just to get some miles in your legs Nick.'
I nodded at his wisdom then departed thinking, 'fuck it i'll be alright'. I heard a slight guffaw, thinking it was my pal. It wasn't it was the marathon Gods taking the piss. "Have you heard that? He's not even going to bother doing a long run. We're going to have some fun with him on the 24th."
April soon came and I completed my (non) training plan with a 6 day cycling camp in Spain. It was superb. 100-130 KM a day in a peleton climbing large mountains and being in amazing scenery and sun. I fell in love with cycling up mountains. Only trouble is it absolutely fucked my legs. Plus on the last day I got rather excited and joined the quicker second group and managed to crash on a descent. My own fault for being a tit (there's a pattern emerging here) but I smashed my knee and dislocated a finger. 1 week out from the marathon and I was hobbling around with a knee the size of a grapefruit. Such drama!!!
Not even pictures on Facebook got me enough sympathy and attention. Most responded, 'man up', which obviously got my back up. I did my best. Well as much as a man with died blonde hair in tight Lycra can indeed 'man up'.
The only saving grace was that I came back with an ultra powerful tan. Always good for attention on marathon day.
Marathon Week
Most people are anxious and nervous. All the training is done, the sponsorship collected and now it's all about the final preparations for the big day. Eat, rest, short runs, stretch, focus.
Me? Well, it was still touch and go. The world was waiting. Sky news ran a ticker tape on my progress with daily bulletins. Will he run or not?
On Thursday I decided to run. 'Fuck it i'll be OK' - didn't you hear? I've done 6 of these i'll be alright." Suddenly all those Facebook 'Man Up's could go and fuck themselves. Have they ever run a marathon on one leg? (Despite my knee being mostly better) I boiled.
I hadn't run in over 3 weeks. I hadn't done anything other than cycle, crash, ice, rest and eat. One of the joys of the marathon is indeed eating. Unfortunately my body dysmorphia and self obsession about weight meant I couldn't even eat loads as not running and eating would mean putting on 1 Kilo in weight. Disaster!!!!!! I was already 4 above my Ironman weight and wasn't as cut as usual. I would be running in Lycra in front of 1 million people with my head telling me 'fat cunt'.
I simply couldn't afford another Kilo so I avoided eating much all week. Yet another mistake.
My final preperations were completed with a sunbed to top up the Spain tan. I may not be the quickest but i'd definitely be the most tanned. That plus the quiff would get me through.
Expo & Registering.
The expo is exciting if it's your first time. However if it's your 6th it's a massive pain in the arse getting to Excel. But at least I wrote a heartfelt message on the marathon wall that would look great on Facebook. Job done.
I duly registered and escaped the Expo without adding to my collection of compression socks even though I was sorely tempted. Kind of like re-arranging the deckchairs on the titanic at this stage buying performance kit.
I got my knee strapped in bright blue rock tape. Another product that marketing makes everyone believe aids performance. The only thing that was going to aid my performance by now was about 10 litres of EPO, but I had to make do with flapjacks instead.
The blue rock tape strapped on was to keep my knee solid, but more importantly it was a visible sign that I was carrying an injury to extract more sympathy and attention. Plus it would be a great excuse in case I did a shit time. Shameless.
Marathon Day
So the big day arrived. I woke up to sub zero temperatures and gusty wind and that was just me. The weather was shit and yet another reason to feel grouchy. I ate porridge, bananas, guzzled coconut water and a protein shake. Limited my tea to two cups and silk cut to just three. I was serious about my prep.
I got the train and got chatting to a guy who was doing his first one. As a seasoned performer I left him with the sage advice, "whatever you do, don't go off too quickly." I could hear the Marathon Gods laughing.
Greenwich Park is a buzz. packed full of expectant runners, families waving off their loved ones, lunatics attaching horses heads to their costumes and pretty little things in Lycra taking their final selfies before the off. My personal favourite was a group of large hairy Army boys applying vaseline everywhere. There's nothing like seeing 8 hairy arsed guys oiling themselves up of a morning. Grim.
I disrobed, went with my AOA vest, lycra shorts, chunky trainers for support, arm warmers, gloves and compression socks. The quiff was extra large and I actually felt OK. I felt pretty strong and relaxed.
I forgot about my lack of training, crash and knee. I felt good. I thought to myself, 'I've done a 3hr 37 and 3hr 50 before. I'll be fine if I take it steady".
I nestled in the first quarter of the throng (35,000 of us) and noticed the dude with the 3hr 45mins flag on his back. I had never run with a pacer and I thought, why not. 3 hr 45mins is within my grasp. Even if it's too quick I can always ease off in the last few miles and do 3hr 55mins. 'Yes good idea Nick. Don't worry about your lack of running, pacing, miles in your legs and the fact you did those times years ago. Stick with this guy and then hang in there for the last 8 miles." The Marathon Gods popped a rib laughing.
Then 10am. The hooter went and we are off. Well, we were off at 10.10am by the time we got through the start. I dropped in behind the pacer dude along with several other people, mostly women with great arses in leggings which was a bonus.
The course was packed, he overtook lots of people, weaving in and out of runners so you had to concentrate and keep your wits about you. I got my head down, didn't engage with the crowd or notice too much to save myself from colliding and falling over. I felt good. This was fun!!!
The first 6 miles were comfortable. Quite strenuous at times when he put on the gas to catch up with his pace, but manageable. I was going quicker than I usually would, totally against the sage advice a gave the newcomer earlier, but I thought to myself 'fuck it, I've done 6 of these I'll be Ok."
My first grouch came at Cutty Sark 6 Miles in. The crowds are huge and the path narrows which makes running through slower runners difficult. People were slowing down taking selfies of themselves running or listening to music and I got annoyed.
I maybe totally self obsessed and a pantomime dame attention seeker but I NEVER take a phone when running a marathon or listen to music. You can't take in the crowd and the occasion and the atmosphere or be engrossed in the course. It's a matter of respect. If 1 million people have taken the trouble to come and support the day then the least you can do is not block them out with headphones and music. At least my blocking them out was natural. Pure self obsession, pain and hatred.
People were stopping to take pics which caused a shunt like you get on a motorway and I caught myself getting my first grouch of the day. "Fucking morons, even in the marathon." 'uh oh Nick, there it is' - my little alcoholic head was already nipping away.
We moved on and got through SE London. Getting to 9 miles before I felt myself struggling a little. The pace was beginning to hurt so I decided to let the 3hr 45 crew go. I witnessed them slowly pull away into the distance, rationalising that if I did a slow pace now I was already ahead of the game to do a sub 4 hour marathon.
They say people who do under 4 hours Ran the marathon and anything over 4 hours is a jog/walk. Well, not sure if I told you but having done 6 of them, anything over 4 hours was not acceptable for me. Male pride and ego wouldn't allow me to feel any satisfaction for anything over 4 hours no matter what circumstances.
I got to 12 miles and wasn't overtaking people anymore. I settled into a slow run as Tower Bridge approached. Tower Bridge is an iconic part of the marathon. It's packed and there is so much noise. It's a real buzz. I ran on the left to see my support team who had agreed to be there but couldn't find them. I found myself getting annoyed and alcoholic head kicked in, 'where the fuck are they??!!! I grumbled.
Over I went, a small wave to the Action on Addiction crew and onto Limehouse. I passed halfway in 1hr 55 mins and thought, 'that's not too bad, if I churn out a slow 2 hour half marathon i'll get home in 3hr 55mins. I'll be happy with that." And that's where it all started to go wrong.
Turning into the Isle of Dogs I slowly felt my power fading. The legs started to seize up and my pace dropped from slow to very slow. I got to mile 16, pretty much where the marathon starts and thought, 'fuck i'm in trouble here'. I took solace that back in 2013 at mile 16 was where I badly needed to shit myself. This time I was all good. The only problem being was that I had gone off far too quickly and was starting to hurt badly.
The Marathon Gods had a meeting and decided now was the time to show me who was in charge.
I told myself several times 'don't walk Nick, don't walk, keep going'. I got to Canary Wharf, mile 19 and had a stretch and a walk. I was fucked. There was no dressing it up, I was in a world of pain.
People were overtaking me by now but I had no response. A horse, someone running backwards and the man with the washing machine flew past me. My humiliation was only just beginning. Thank fuck I kept the Rhino out of reach. A small crumb of comfort for my ego.
By now the pace had slowed from very slow to the marathon shuffle. Neither walking nor indeed full running. Mobility scooters seemed a great idea at this point.
I got to mile 20 and a woman also running for AOA pulled alongside me, 'how's the knee Nick'. She is so lovely and wonderful and inspiring. Older then me and less fit but doing 4 marathons in 4 weeks, she's not what you would describe an athlete, but she found the time to ask how I was doing. "Playing up a little, i'm struggling, you go on, well done." I replied, but inside I was dying.
"fuck, now I'm getting overtaken by middle aged women." My ego was taking a battering and full alcoholic grouch head took over. "you failure." I couldn't respond. She pulled away (slowly) and I saw her gradually go well in front of me.
It was like seeing your wife run off with a guy with a bigger cock. I was devastated. All my marathons, Ironman's, all that sense of masculinity and self esteem from extreme physical challenges. All that machismo and pride were shot to pieces as she pulled away. I was effectively rendered cock-less and there was nothing I could do about it.
I walked a couple of times, got to the Embankment where the noise is deafening and support huge and thought, 'oh why don't you all fuck off with your 'Come on Nick' 'Keep going' - Jesus I was grumpy.
I couldn't engage with the crowd. I couldn't get involved. I couldn't enjoy it. I just wanted it over. I was locked in self induced pain and misery. It was a dark place (again)
Not even the attention I got was working. Every shout about my tan made me more self conscious and hate myself just a little bit more. I got one 'great lid' with reference to my hair, someone shouted 'go on big lad' which was horrific to my body dysmorphia as it made a mental note to lose 6 kilos and look like a refuge (only people with food issues will totally relate to that) and not even getting a 'oh look at him he's gorgeous' satisfied my crushed ego.
I saw my support team at mile 21 which was lovely and I could have happily had a cup of tea and silk cut with them but you have to plough on don't you?
The final straight was purgatory. Like a long slow descent into hell. 5 miles seemed like years. OAP's were passing me. Any semblance of time or sub 4 hours had long since gone. Any hint of respectability or satisfaction gone. My pride was battered, my ego shattered. The marathon had spoken. 26.2 miles had taken me.
I shuffled into the Mall and finished anonymously in 4 hours 20 mins. There was no Josh to save at the end and carry someone across on my shoulders heroically. There was no BBC camera crew interviewing me. I finished alone, in isolation, in my head, in pain, in alcoholism but at least I didn't shit myself.
I couldn't walk properly. The legs had seized up, the knee was hurting but I felt genuine joy it was over. Never again. Ever!
I met my team and we went to a restaurant a pal of mine who ran it in 2hrs 50, ( I know mad isn't it?) had kindly booked to raise more money for my charity. As we struggled up the stairs, I saw a girl who basically saved my marathon day. She couldn't even get up the stairs. So we helped her up and got chatting.
Pippa was a rower and had done her 1st marathon, was 25, eltite sports woman, was a great girl but was totally fucked and couldn't walk upstairs. Yes!!! Someone younger than me, prettier than me, more sporty than me, who was slower than me and couldn't walk aswell as me!! I know I shouldn't compare and despair but her pain made me feel so much better about myself! Thanks Pip.
We took her to the restaurant, saw my pal and some friends, he looked as fresh as a daisy and is a proper marathon runner and a big inspiration. Difference between me and him apart from around 1hr 45 mins? Well he didn't nip out for a silk cut during dinner. That may explain a lot.
We went home, I had a sauna and massive burger and that was it. The glow lasts 2 days as everyone asks you about it but then it's over. It's done. No more attention. No more allowances. I've used all that up now until the next thing.
And that was my marathon in 2016. I raised nearly £2k for Action on Addiction which is what it's all about really isn't it? I didn't get the time I wanted but who cares really? It's not exactly world shattering news. I learnt an awful lot about myself and preparation and my character.
You cannot piss about with the marathon. It finds you out . The distance is brutal if you don't give it the respect it's due. There are no half measures and I found out to my cost. I didn't train enough, I didn't put in enough work and I couldn't just wing it. It totally broke me this time.
It's exactly like recovery from alcoholism/addiction. If you don't follow the 12 step programme to the best of your ability, your disease moves in and you become locked in the head and pain. If you don't do the daily actions then self will drives you and life becomes painful. If you don't do the work it will claim you.
Just like the marathon, if you don't put in the training, if you don't do the work it will find you out on the day and make you suffer. No difference to the disease of addiction.
Both should be treated with respect and I learnt a valuable lesson. Wise people learn from it, The Nick Evans? Well I wouldn't quite call myself wise just yet. Diet Coke anyone?
At least I did 'Man Up' in my tight lycra shorts, power tan, great 'lid' and gay boy vest though. I know I look camper than someone from the Bee Gees but don't be fooled behind this metrosexual image lies a deeply stupid man but also a warrior who endured that pain, did the marathon despite not being in a shape to do it and raised some money for people who need it.
Just for today I give credit to myself and others who ran it. I did it. I actually did something that years ago when drinking I would never dream of doing. That is the gift of sobriety. Yes I may fuck it up with my self will, ego and issues but the bottom line is a did it and I salute everyone who sponsored me, supported me and I salute anyone who actually did the marathon and helped others.
It's important we recognise good traits and success aswell as errors. I am long enough around not to beat myself so badly as I used to. I wrote the piece to take the piss out of my head. To show you that you can do things despite yourself and that it all comes out good in the end. We are all warriors.
This is for all who have walked before us or never made it. I salute all my brothers and sisters and I love you all very much.
Oh and marathon Gods, I'm really sorry. I'll never take the piss out of you again.
Nicholas Evans
This one hurt. I mean proper hurt. Not the hurt that fades within a few hours like a mild hangover. No this one is like a 7 day hangover with blurred vision and shit.
My legs are still like stale baguettes and I'm walking like I've been f**d senseless. It's not a good look. It really isn't.
All week I've been travelling around London on the tube, sliding up stairs sideways and going down backwards. My carefully styled image has taken a battering. The only slight mirth I have experienced is seeing other people across the stairwell doing exactly the same. Sharing that knowing glance. Brothers and sisters united in lactic acid.
Not all are like this of course. I've met several annoying bastards who ran under 3hrs 30 and look as fresh as a Virgin's quim. They were best avoided as I wrapped myself in self hatred and pain.
I'm grumpy. I didn't enjoy this marathon, ( my seventh London ),for many reasons, mostly self induced. But I wanted to share with my experience, my head and the outcome to help you get a handle of what it's like to be a recovering alcoholic, 14 years sober and still as mad as a box of frogs.
I ran it for Action on Addiction because the disease is close to my heart. Not only has it killed members of my family but i'm one too. Part of the reason for writing my blog is to lift the lid on the alcoholic mind so people can try to understand the disease a bit more and make it more acceptable in society. I like to think it's my little bit for educating and 'normalising' the disease.
I'm an addict. I'm 15 years into recovery, but i'm still an addict. I still think like one, have tendencies of one & behave like one. It's in my DNA.
The personality and character of an addict is prone to bouts of self hatred, self destruction, anger, intolerance, self obsession, high ego and low self esteem. I know everyone has these to some lesser or greater degree but I have them in bucket loads which makes normal rational thinking somewhat elusive sometimes. This contributed heavily to my marathon experience.
There were other factors of course, normal human reactions, my own stupidity, male pride but there was a large sprinkling of good old fashioned alcoholic thinking
Oh, also, before I forget I have food issues and body dysmorphia. These don't help either.
So that's the disclaimer out of the way. It's important you know all of that before reading what i'm about to put. It doesn't mean my thinking or perception is right. You may shake your head and think, 'for God's sake Nick' but I wanted to be honest and open.
It gives context to my Marathon experience. Ok? Ready? Here Goes;
Preperation.
Most standard marathon advice encourages you to book your space well in advance and do a solid 16 weeks of training for the big day. As a veteran of 6 London's you would have thought I know the drill by now. Well you'd be wrong. Underneath this largesse of tan and quiff lays a deeply stupid man.
I got a text from a pal in February/March, saying "a friend of mine can't run the marathon for AOA, can you?" I thought about it for a few minutes, remembering all the pain and suffering and how I shat myself in 2013. I remembered the blisters and torture. How little training I had done over the past 6 months. Only an idiot would attempt to run the marathon with 8 weeks notice and no training. I texted back, "sure". See what I'm dealing with here?
My attitude was, "fuck it I've done 6 of them i'll be alright." and, most crucially, it was an opportunity to run around London with 1 million people applauding and shouting my name. What's not to like about that? It's like the equivalent of 1,000 likes on Facebook or 50 shares of a particularly good picture. A self obsessed alcoholics' dream. I'm in!
I thought having completed Wales Ironman in September which was without doubt the longest and most painful day of my life. 14 hours and 19 minutes of sheer purgatory. This would be like a walk in the park compared to that. London Marathon? Piece of Piss!" - That arrogant disrespect of 26.2 miles was to prove costly.
The Marathon Gods heard my folly, 'That Nick Evans is being a bit lairy isn't he? We best fuck him up on the 24th April. I'm not having anyone take the piss out of me." The Marathon Gods had spoken. My fate was sealed.
Training
Part of the fun of participating in the marathon is the training throughout the long winter months. The long runs at the weekend, short sharp runs on cold, dark winter evening's. Even the gym sessions are interesting as you build towards your goal. It's part of the journey. Experienced marathon runners will tell you it's important to get the base fitness in the winter, add some speed and strength during the spring and slap in a couple of shorter races to tune up for the big day.
Me? Well I spent the winter gorging on processed meat and slamming as man silk cut and diet cokes down my neck as possible. The weekends consisted of staying up late pursuing non spiritual activities and the only thing short and sharp I did on winter evenings was a sauna. Its fair to say I entered into the marathon late without much in the way of base fitness other than the deluded part of my mind that thought, 'fuck it i'll be alright'. The Marathon gods laughed at this continued madness.
Don't get me wrong, when I did agree to do it, I did do some training. Dear Lord i'm not that mad. I slapped in a few hill sprints, did a few lap's and a bit of Richmond park (10 miles) and entered a half marathon. All too little too late though. My pal who's a serious sub 3 hour runner with a coach and plan and a goal and everything advised me to do a couple of long 20 mile runs before the day, 'just to get some miles in your legs Nick.'
I nodded at his wisdom then departed thinking, 'fuck it i'll be alright'. I heard a slight guffaw, thinking it was my pal. It wasn't it was the marathon Gods taking the piss. "Have you heard that? He's not even going to bother doing a long run. We're going to have some fun with him on the 24th."
April soon came and I completed my (non) training plan with a 6 day cycling camp in Spain. It was superb. 100-130 KM a day in a peleton climbing large mountains and being in amazing scenery and sun. I fell in love with cycling up mountains. Only trouble is it absolutely fucked my legs. Plus on the last day I got rather excited and joined the quicker second group and managed to crash on a descent. My own fault for being a tit (there's a pattern emerging here) but I smashed my knee and dislocated a finger. 1 week out from the marathon and I was hobbling around with a knee the size of a grapefruit. Such drama!!!
Not even pictures on Facebook got me enough sympathy and attention. Most responded, 'man up', which obviously got my back up. I did my best. Well as much as a man with died blonde hair in tight Lycra can indeed 'man up'.
The only saving grace was that I came back with an ultra powerful tan. Always good for attention on marathon day.
Marathon Week
Most people are anxious and nervous. All the training is done, the sponsorship collected and now it's all about the final preparations for the big day. Eat, rest, short runs, stretch, focus.
Me? Well, it was still touch and go. The world was waiting. Sky news ran a ticker tape on my progress with daily bulletins. Will he run or not?
On Thursday I decided to run. 'Fuck it i'll be OK' - didn't you hear? I've done 6 of these i'll be alright." Suddenly all those Facebook 'Man Up's could go and fuck themselves. Have they ever run a marathon on one leg? (Despite my knee being mostly better) I boiled.
I hadn't run in over 3 weeks. I hadn't done anything other than cycle, crash, ice, rest and eat. One of the joys of the marathon is indeed eating. Unfortunately my body dysmorphia and self obsession about weight meant I couldn't even eat loads as not running and eating would mean putting on 1 Kilo in weight. Disaster!!!!!! I was already 4 above my Ironman weight and wasn't as cut as usual. I would be running in Lycra in front of 1 million people with my head telling me 'fat cunt'.
I simply couldn't afford another Kilo so I avoided eating much all week. Yet another mistake.
My final preperations were completed with a sunbed to top up the Spain tan. I may not be the quickest but i'd definitely be the most tanned. That plus the quiff would get me through.
Expo & Registering.
The expo is exciting if it's your first time. However if it's your 6th it's a massive pain in the arse getting to Excel. But at least I wrote a heartfelt message on the marathon wall that would look great on Facebook. Job done.
I duly registered and escaped the Expo without adding to my collection of compression socks even though I was sorely tempted. Kind of like re-arranging the deckchairs on the titanic at this stage buying performance kit.
I got my knee strapped in bright blue rock tape. Another product that marketing makes everyone believe aids performance. The only thing that was going to aid my performance by now was about 10 litres of EPO, but I had to make do with flapjacks instead.
The blue rock tape strapped on was to keep my knee solid, but more importantly it was a visible sign that I was carrying an injury to extract more sympathy and attention. Plus it would be a great excuse in case I did a shit time. Shameless.
Marathon Day
So the big day arrived. I woke up to sub zero temperatures and gusty wind and that was just me. The weather was shit and yet another reason to feel grouchy. I ate porridge, bananas, guzzled coconut water and a protein shake. Limited my tea to two cups and silk cut to just three. I was serious about my prep.
I got the train and got chatting to a guy who was doing his first one. As a seasoned performer I left him with the sage advice, "whatever you do, don't go off too quickly." I could hear the Marathon Gods laughing.
Greenwich Park is a buzz. packed full of expectant runners, families waving off their loved ones, lunatics attaching horses heads to their costumes and pretty little things in Lycra taking their final selfies before the off. My personal favourite was a group of large hairy Army boys applying vaseline everywhere. There's nothing like seeing 8 hairy arsed guys oiling themselves up of a morning. Grim.
I disrobed, went with my AOA vest, lycra shorts, chunky trainers for support, arm warmers, gloves and compression socks. The quiff was extra large and I actually felt OK. I felt pretty strong and relaxed.
I forgot about my lack of training, crash and knee. I felt good. I thought to myself, 'I've done a 3hr 37 and 3hr 50 before. I'll be fine if I take it steady".
I nestled in the first quarter of the throng (35,000 of us) and noticed the dude with the 3hr 45mins flag on his back. I had never run with a pacer and I thought, why not. 3 hr 45mins is within my grasp. Even if it's too quick I can always ease off in the last few miles and do 3hr 55mins. 'Yes good idea Nick. Don't worry about your lack of running, pacing, miles in your legs and the fact you did those times years ago. Stick with this guy and then hang in there for the last 8 miles." The Marathon Gods popped a rib laughing.
Then 10am. The hooter went and we are off. Well, we were off at 10.10am by the time we got through the start. I dropped in behind the pacer dude along with several other people, mostly women with great arses in leggings which was a bonus.
The course was packed, he overtook lots of people, weaving in and out of runners so you had to concentrate and keep your wits about you. I got my head down, didn't engage with the crowd or notice too much to save myself from colliding and falling over. I felt good. This was fun!!!
The first 6 miles were comfortable. Quite strenuous at times when he put on the gas to catch up with his pace, but manageable. I was going quicker than I usually would, totally against the sage advice a gave the newcomer earlier, but I thought to myself 'fuck it, I've done 6 of these I'll be Ok."
My first grouch came at Cutty Sark 6 Miles in. The crowds are huge and the path narrows which makes running through slower runners difficult. People were slowing down taking selfies of themselves running or listening to music and I got annoyed.
I maybe totally self obsessed and a pantomime dame attention seeker but I NEVER take a phone when running a marathon or listen to music. You can't take in the crowd and the occasion and the atmosphere or be engrossed in the course. It's a matter of respect. If 1 million people have taken the trouble to come and support the day then the least you can do is not block them out with headphones and music. At least my blocking them out was natural. Pure self obsession, pain and hatred.
People were stopping to take pics which caused a shunt like you get on a motorway and I caught myself getting my first grouch of the day. "Fucking morons, even in the marathon." 'uh oh Nick, there it is' - my little alcoholic head was already nipping away.
We moved on and got through SE London. Getting to 9 miles before I felt myself struggling a little. The pace was beginning to hurt so I decided to let the 3hr 45 crew go. I witnessed them slowly pull away into the distance, rationalising that if I did a slow pace now I was already ahead of the game to do a sub 4 hour marathon.
They say people who do under 4 hours Ran the marathon and anything over 4 hours is a jog/walk. Well, not sure if I told you but having done 6 of them, anything over 4 hours was not acceptable for me. Male pride and ego wouldn't allow me to feel any satisfaction for anything over 4 hours no matter what circumstances.
I got to 12 miles and wasn't overtaking people anymore. I settled into a slow run as Tower Bridge approached. Tower Bridge is an iconic part of the marathon. It's packed and there is so much noise. It's a real buzz. I ran on the left to see my support team who had agreed to be there but couldn't find them. I found myself getting annoyed and alcoholic head kicked in, 'where the fuck are they??!!! I grumbled.
Over I went, a small wave to the Action on Addiction crew and onto Limehouse. I passed halfway in 1hr 55 mins and thought, 'that's not too bad, if I churn out a slow 2 hour half marathon i'll get home in 3hr 55mins. I'll be happy with that." And that's where it all started to go wrong.
Turning into the Isle of Dogs I slowly felt my power fading. The legs started to seize up and my pace dropped from slow to very slow. I got to mile 16, pretty much where the marathon starts and thought, 'fuck i'm in trouble here'. I took solace that back in 2013 at mile 16 was where I badly needed to shit myself. This time I was all good. The only problem being was that I had gone off far too quickly and was starting to hurt badly.
The Marathon Gods had a meeting and decided now was the time to show me who was in charge.
I told myself several times 'don't walk Nick, don't walk, keep going'. I got to Canary Wharf, mile 19 and had a stretch and a walk. I was fucked. There was no dressing it up, I was in a world of pain.
People were overtaking me by now but I had no response. A horse, someone running backwards and the man with the washing machine flew past me. My humiliation was only just beginning. Thank fuck I kept the Rhino out of reach. A small crumb of comfort for my ego.
By now the pace had slowed from very slow to the marathon shuffle. Neither walking nor indeed full running. Mobility scooters seemed a great idea at this point.
I got to mile 20 and a woman also running for AOA pulled alongside me, 'how's the knee Nick'. She is so lovely and wonderful and inspiring. Older then me and less fit but doing 4 marathons in 4 weeks, she's not what you would describe an athlete, but she found the time to ask how I was doing. "Playing up a little, i'm struggling, you go on, well done." I replied, but inside I was dying.
"fuck, now I'm getting overtaken by middle aged women." My ego was taking a battering and full alcoholic grouch head took over. "you failure." I couldn't respond. She pulled away (slowly) and I saw her gradually go well in front of me.
It was like seeing your wife run off with a guy with a bigger cock. I was devastated. All my marathons, Ironman's, all that sense of masculinity and self esteem from extreme physical challenges. All that machismo and pride were shot to pieces as she pulled away. I was effectively rendered cock-less and there was nothing I could do about it.
I walked a couple of times, got to the Embankment where the noise is deafening and support huge and thought, 'oh why don't you all fuck off with your 'Come on Nick' 'Keep going' - Jesus I was grumpy.
I couldn't engage with the crowd. I couldn't get involved. I couldn't enjoy it. I just wanted it over. I was locked in self induced pain and misery. It was a dark place (again)
Not even the attention I got was working. Every shout about my tan made me more self conscious and hate myself just a little bit more. I got one 'great lid' with reference to my hair, someone shouted 'go on big lad' which was horrific to my body dysmorphia as it made a mental note to lose 6 kilos and look like a refuge (only people with food issues will totally relate to that) and not even getting a 'oh look at him he's gorgeous' satisfied my crushed ego.
I saw my support team at mile 21 which was lovely and I could have happily had a cup of tea and silk cut with them but you have to plough on don't you?
The final straight was purgatory. Like a long slow descent into hell. 5 miles seemed like years. OAP's were passing me. Any semblance of time or sub 4 hours had long since gone. Any hint of respectability or satisfaction gone. My pride was battered, my ego shattered. The marathon had spoken. 26.2 miles had taken me.
I shuffled into the Mall and finished anonymously in 4 hours 20 mins. There was no Josh to save at the end and carry someone across on my shoulders heroically. There was no BBC camera crew interviewing me. I finished alone, in isolation, in my head, in pain, in alcoholism but at least I didn't shit myself.
I couldn't walk properly. The legs had seized up, the knee was hurting but I felt genuine joy it was over. Never again. Ever!
I met my team and we went to a restaurant a pal of mine who ran it in 2hrs 50, ( I know mad isn't it?) had kindly booked to raise more money for my charity. As we struggled up the stairs, I saw a girl who basically saved my marathon day. She couldn't even get up the stairs. So we helped her up and got chatting.
Pippa was a rower and had done her 1st marathon, was 25, eltite sports woman, was a great girl but was totally fucked and couldn't walk upstairs. Yes!!! Someone younger than me, prettier than me, more sporty than me, who was slower than me and couldn't walk aswell as me!! I know I shouldn't compare and despair but her pain made me feel so much better about myself! Thanks Pip.
We took her to the restaurant, saw my pal and some friends, he looked as fresh as a daisy and is a proper marathon runner and a big inspiration. Difference between me and him apart from around 1hr 45 mins? Well he didn't nip out for a silk cut during dinner. That may explain a lot.
We went home, I had a sauna and massive burger and that was it. The glow lasts 2 days as everyone asks you about it but then it's over. It's done. No more attention. No more allowances. I've used all that up now until the next thing.
And that was my marathon in 2016. I raised nearly £2k for Action on Addiction which is what it's all about really isn't it? I didn't get the time I wanted but who cares really? It's not exactly world shattering news. I learnt an awful lot about myself and preparation and my character.
You cannot piss about with the marathon. It finds you out . The distance is brutal if you don't give it the respect it's due. There are no half measures and I found out to my cost. I didn't train enough, I didn't put in enough work and I couldn't just wing it. It totally broke me this time.
It's exactly like recovery from alcoholism/addiction. If you don't follow the 12 step programme to the best of your ability, your disease moves in and you become locked in the head and pain. If you don't do the daily actions then self will drives you and life becomes painful. If you don't do the work it will claim you.
Just like the marathon, if you don't put in the training, if you don't do the work it will find you out on the day and make you suffer. No difference to the disease of addiction.
Both should be treated with respect and I learnt a valuable lesson. Wise people learn from it, The Nick Evans? Well I wouldn't quite call myself wise just yet. Diet Coke anyone?
At least I did 'Man Up' in my tight lycra shorts, power tan, great 'lid' and gay boy vest though. I know I look camper than someone from the Bee Gees but don't be fooled behind this metrosexual image lies a deeply stupid man but also a warrior who endured that pain, did the marathon despite not being in a shape to do it and raised some money for people who need it.
Just for today I give credit to myself and others who ran it. I did it. I actually did something that years ago when drinking I would never dream of doing. That is the gift of sobriety. Yes I may fuck it up with my self will, ego and issues but the bottom line is a did it and I salute everyone who sponsored me, supported me and I salute anyone who actually did the marathon and helped others.
It's important we recognise good traits and success aswell as errors. I am long enough around not to beat myself so badly as I used to. I wrote the piece to take the piss out of my head. To show you that you can do things despite yourself and that it all comes out good in the end. We are all warriors.
This is for all who have walked before us or never made it. I salute all my brothers and sisters and I love you all very much.
Oh and marathon Gods, I'm really sorry. I'll never take the piss out of you again.
www.actiononaddiction.org
www.aa.org
Nicholas Evans
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