Undertow

09/09/2025

Philippe's 226 Blog September 2025

Every Parkinson's journey is unique. There are over 40 symptoms, nobody gets them all, but we all get a few. We develop differently and we deal with this progressive, neurological disease in our own way. This is my perspective, raw and honest. My hope is that when you read this, you will pick out just one or two points that resonate, the rest is just me waffling.

As I write, Rosie and I are in Tenby, it's Ironman weekend - beautifully appropriate for today's subject ….. the importance of targets for motivation.

Today, a bit of Genesis will bring the blog to life. This track comes from the second record I ever bought and links well with the theme. It's called "Undertow" – a current under the surface that slowly drags you out to sea.

Not sure how I will ever crowbar into this blog the first vinyl I ever bought ….. "Yes sir, I can boogie."

The curtains are drawn
Now the fire warms the room
Meanwhile outside
Wind from the north-east chills the air
It will soon be snowing out there
And some there are
Cold, they prepare for a sleepless night
Maybe this will be their last fight

Why are we in Tenby for Ironman weekend?

I was diagnosed in August 2023, I cried that day …. a lot. Three weeks later, entries opened for Ironman Wales 2024, so out of pure resilience, anger, petulance and sheer bloody mindedness, I entered. I wasn't going to let this incurable, debilitating, progressive, neurological disease dictate my dreams. I had no idea how many events I had left in me, maybe this would be my last fight.

In early 2024, my left knee dictated the need for a partial replacement and with surgery taking place in April, I deferred my Ironman Wales place from September 2024 to the following year. I was buzzing and super motivated with the challenge ahead, gunning for my 13th time crossing the Ironman finish line serenaded by those inspirational words "Philippe, you are an Ironman".

But we're safe in each other's embrace
All fears go as I look on your face
Better think awhile
Or I may never think again
If this were the last day of your life, my friend
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?

So I commenced my 2025 training programme with every intention of completing Ironman Wales' 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile marathon in less than 17 hours – arguably the toughest Ironman in the world. I've finished it 5 times before, just train harder then "Philippe, you are an Ironman"

As the weeks and months passed, and training volumes increased, I started to manage my own expectations:

I'll do the swim and bike and walk the marathon
I'll do the swim and bike then stop
I'll do the swim and half the bike
I'll just do the swim

Let me take you back to last Sunday (14th September). I went to the Blue Lagoon for a dress rehearsal – a test of whether I have the power to swim hard for up to two hours to beat any conditions that Tenby North Beach throws at me – I've beaten it at its worst in the past.

I intended to swim 8 x 500 metre laps and would assess my capabilities based on time taken and how I felt.

The result ….. not a chance.

Cadance is the major issue. At my peak (2012 - 2016), I was swimming at 40 strokes per minute, now my dopamine depleted brain won't send the signals to go faster than 20. With a weak left side, this all leads to incredibly slow progress.

I am heart broken to accept that I can't do it any more. Decision made, it's a DNS (Did Not Start) for me.

Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you
Make the most of all you still have coming to you
Or lay down on the ground and let the tears run from you
Crying to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees

The other day, Lucy asked me how I felt about my decision not to swim. I answered with a positive, "it's fine, I'll keep moving forward". On reflection, I am devasted that I have progressed from:

I'll keep doing what I used to do, just slower

I can't do what I used to do any more.

To be brutally honest, that hurts ….. a lot.

Let me live again, let life come find me wanting
Spring must strike again against the shield of winter
Let me feel once more the arms of love surround me
Telling me the danger's past, I need not fear the icy blast again

I need targets to motivate me. Throughout my work career I always loved the focus on the end goals, they got me out of bed at 6 am and earlier, they got me to drive hundreds of thousands of miles and work long, long days. In my sporting career (AKA my mid-life crisis), I loved aiming for that Ironman finish, or the Marina after swimming the length of Windermere, or Whitby West Cliff having cycled coast to coast from Seascale on my own. The thought of those achievements kept me going in the darkest of times.

Laughter, music and perfume linger here
And there, and there
Wine flows from flask to glass and mouth
As it soothes, confusing our doubtsAnd soon we feel
Why do a single thing today
There's tomorrow sure as I'm here
So the days they turn into years
And still no tomorrow appears

So, I have a decision to make as I start to think about LAT (life after Tenby).

Do I move away from setting myself targets and simply get into an active routine? Benefit: I don't fail, Risk: I lose motivation.

Or do I set myself challenging (but ever decreasing) targets? Benefit: They keep me motivated and moving forward, Risk: I fail to achieve them and get demoralised.

The decision is easy for me at this stage in my Parky career – targets are needed #parkydiem …. Watch this space.

Am I in denial? Yes! But actually, it's not a bad place to be, I would rather die with a dream in my heart, than live without one.

Better think awhile
Or I may never think again
If this were the last day of your life, my friend
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?

In light of the DNS, the question is, why are we here in Tenby? Three reasons:

You can't get your money back at this late stage – so I've registered and picked up my rucksack – yes, possibly the most expensive rucksack ever 😊
IF the weather turns very nasty and IF they cancel the swim and IF they cancel the bike and IF they give me 8 hours to hobble the marathon – I could get a medal 😊
Pembrokeshire is gorgeous – why not enjoy it?

So what do we do on race day? We spectate, support, shout, scream, cheer, laugh, cry and make sure that every one of the 2,000 heroes out there has the absolutely best possible day. From Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau at 7:30 AM in the breathtaking, natural auditorium that is North Beach, to the last "You are an Ironman" over 17 hours later, Ironman Wales is the most astonishing sporting experience you can imagine ….. just to be part of it is life affirming.

Proud to be here, proud to be part of the history. Just keep moving forward.

Undertow

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