On 9th August, I took part in one of the slowest 10km runs I have ever completed. In my running days, I could manage a 34 minute 10km but on this occasion, it took me well over the hour to record my personal worst for the distance. But surprising as it may seem, it was by far the most rewarding experience of my sporting endeavours.

Let me explain. Those of you familiar with the tritalk.co.uk triathlon forum will know that each year, a project is undertaken to raise money for good causes. In 2006, various tritalk members – including yours truly – volunteered themselves for a photo shoot in London which culminated in the production of the 2007 tritalk calendar. Not as much nudity as another triathlon calendar that springs to mind, but great fun nevertheless. This year, however, the boat was pushed out even further with the aim of setting up a triathlon club for the visually impaired and sights on competing at the London triathlon on the week-end of 9th/10th August. The money soon started to roll in (and still can if you head to www.tritalk.co.uk) and the team started to take shape. The people involved in this project are far too many too mention, and although it would be unfair to single one person out, I feel duty bound to place on record the hard work and commitment that one in particular has devoted to the project. Step forward Mark Stride!

I got involved in the project because of my desire to give something back to the visually impaired. But for the grace of god - and the good surgeons at Moorfields eye hospital – I might well have been racing with the VIPER team at this year’s London Tri, so it was without any hesitation that I agreed to travel down to the Excel Centre to support the race team. But a few days before then, I was asked by Mark Stride if I would be prepared to help one of the VIPER race members whose guide was unable to complete the run leg of the Olympic distance event because of injury. How could I refuse.

My job was to guide Britain’s only totally blind triathlete, Maggie Boyes, around the 10km run course. Yes, totally blind from birth. Now just think about that for a minute. Next time you are standing at the lake side ready for your open water swim, close your eyes and imagine what swimming blind entails? My mind casts back to one of Robin Brew’s swim camps when, to show our lack of technique and balance, we swam a length with eyes closed. Most folk, having started from the middle of the pool, ended up hitting one side of the pool. OK, so Maggie and other VIPERs were tethered to their guides, but the sensory depravation from being blind is something that I still find difficult to understand or comprehend. To this day, I do not understand how they achieve what clearly they do achieve despite their handicap. I am of course loathe to use the word handicap, because that has certain negative connotations whereas, on the day, I witnessed more humour and positive thinking than most other races I frequent. But if the swim isn’t difficult enough, you then have the bike leg to contend with. Barry, Maggie’s normal guide, was able to ride tandem despite his injury but unfortunately, they punctured at the end of the first lap and without any means of repairing it, came into T2 knowing that they would record a DNF because of the incomplete bike leg. Now I might be wrong, but I guess some folk would decide to call it a day, but not Maggie. She was insistent that we head out for the run and so it was that on that wet and miserable day, weather wise, we ventured out of the Excel Centre with only our umbilical cord between our wrists to keep us heading in the same direction.

It would be fair to say that I was clearly the more nervous of the two. I had an inkling of what was involved but this was a new experience and the success of Maggie’s race was, quite literally, in my hands. As anyone who has raced at London will know, the run course, particularly around the Excel complex, is not exactly straightforward and I very soon learnt the importance of effective communication. To an extent, pulling or releasing the tension on the tether rope is a good way of guiding a blind athlete, but more than anything, they prefer a detailed description of the surroundings, type of corner, elevation, etc. I also found it helpful to keep Maggie up to date with what was happening around her. I was able to point out the running backwards waiter and she was overjoyed every time I mentioned that we were overtaking anybody.

The hour or so of the run passed far too quickly and to her credit Maggie ran every step of the way. No walking, even through the drinks stations. And my abiding memory will be of the reactions of both supporters and fellow runners who fully recognised Maggie’s achievements in not only trying, but also succeeding in racing triathlon. Luckily for me, the incessant rain disguised the fact that I got pretty emotional at times and although it isn’t always macho for us to men to admit that we cry, I hope you will not think any the less of me when I admit that I was either in tears, or close to tears for most of those glorious 10,000 metres. None more so than as we climbed that last hill and could hear the roar of the crowd at the finish line. As we came down the finish shoot, on impulse, I stopped running and invited the crowd to show their appreciation for what this wonderful lady had achieved. The response was both loud and genuine. As we crossed the line, we hugged each other and Maggie thanked me for guiding her. To be honest though, I think it was me who needed to thank her for allowing me to share that hour or so with somebody so inspirational. Along with my marriage and birth of my two children, it will be something I will treasure for the rest of my days.

Hopefully, Barry is now over his injury and will be guiding Maggie to many more triathlon successes. But if she ever needs my help again, she knows where to find me. It would be my pleasure.