Cracknell James - Touching Distance

Contents

About the Book

In October 2011 James Cracknell, two-time Olympic gold-medal rower and one of the greatest endurance athletes the world has ever known, suffered a seizure at home as his young son looked on in horror. A man who had known no limits; a man who had practically achieved the impossible, was now struggling to master lifes simple challenges.

A year earlier, as James undertook yet another endurance challenge in Arizona, he was knocked off his bike by the wing mirror of a petrol tanker. It had smashed into the back of his head at high speed causing severe frontal lobe damage. The doctors werent sure if he would recover, and if he did, whether he would ever be the same again.

Touching Distance is an extraordinary, honest and powerful account as James and his wife Bev confront for the first time the lasting effects that the accident has had on their lives. It is the story of a marriage; of a family, and one mans fight back to be the best husband and father he can be.

About the Author

James Cracknell, OBE, is a World Record Holder and double Olympic gold medalist. Since retiring from mucking about in boats (as he puts it), James has distinguished himself as a powerful endurance athlete. When not crossing oceans and continents, he writes for the Daily Telegraph; is in demand as an entertaining corporate speaker and is an ambassador for Karrimor and BMW. His wife, Bev Turner, is a writer and broadcaster. Together they have three children.

For Croyde, Kiki, Trixie; all of our amazing family and every person whose life is touched by brain injury.

(And Bev, its only from reading your words that I truly understand what youve been through. I adore you.)

Prologue

[James]

The wheels turn, my feet circling, trying to apply continuous pressure, shoes clipped on to the pedals so that the bike and I are one. At times, its hard to sense where my body ends and the carbon frame begins. This is what cycling feels like at its best, the perfect symbiotic relationship: without me, the bike is nothing; without it, Id be plodding significantly slower down Route 66 than the twenty miles per hour Im averaging.

It feels great to be out of Death Valley, off my feet and back on the open road. The broken metatarsal that crippled me on foot offers barely a twinge in the comfort of a rigid carbon-soled cycling shoe. The sun is slowly rising but its already hot, touching twenty-one degrees. It warms my lungs and the back of my throat but the crew have kept me hydrated. I dont even have to worry about the fluid as long as I drink at the required rate and my urine passes their osmolality analysis. And its an absolute joy urine testing aside like being a professional athlete again. All I have to do is get to Lake Erie. I smile, thinking how much fun it will be to row across it with old mate Matt Pinsent.

Then Ill get back on the bike to New York until I finish my journey across the United States with a swim to the Statue of Liberty. What date is it? July twentieth. Were making good progress. Id dearly love to be the first man to go coast-to-coast on this unique route across this beautiful country in less than twenty days under his own steam.

I remember Bev kissing me and saying that Im the only athlete in the world who has the skills to do that, though admittedly the rowing part excludes most people. And am pretty sure she was just flattering me. Whatever I feel like the luckiest man in the world. Its been six years since I retired from full-time rowing. Six years of trying to work out who I am and what I want to do with my life.

Ive finally reached a stage where I can see over the horizon and into my future without panicking. The film of this trip should touch wood be a success for the Discovery Channel. Ill finally get a good contract that will make my hobby my job. Bev and I have been talking about trying for a third baby. Thats something to look forward to! I miss the kids: Croyde with his boundless energy and Kiki with her endless cuddles. I push the pedals a little faster. The quicker I get home, the quicker I can see them.

A car passes, one of the very few Ive seen at this hour, but the road is wide, two lanes in each direction, and Im keeping inside the line of the hard shoulder. I feel perfectly safe.

I lift up and stretch my back, which gives the added benefit of allowing my saddle-sore ass some relief. I assess my body for any aches and pains that my physiotherapist Mark will get to work on later, but aside from those associated with sitting on a bike for over fifteen hours a day, there arent any. I sit back in the saddle; take a deep breath. Ive never felt so alive.

And then there is nothing

[James]

I SEE SO much of myself in my mum, Jennie. She was, and is, the most obstinate person you could ever meet a vastly under-estimated character trait. She has a phenomenal memory for even the smallest detail, which I had too, and it is incredibly useful in arguments or used to be, when I had a memory. Like me, she wants to win any argument, but unlike me she will quickly back down and seethe silently if she senses real conflict. Coming from a working-class background she didnt have the same luxury of pursuing dreams that my parents had given me. She trained as a physiotherapist and went back to work after I was born. In the hospital where she worked I used to hang out at the crche.

It isnt difficult to see where I get my competitive and stubborn streak and my ability to endure boredom: Mum. One story from her childhood absolutely sums her up. As she wasnt allowed to leave the table until she had cleared her plate, shed hide something she didnt like in her cheeks like a hamster or under her tongue for up to half an hour and then spit it out when her mother wasnt looking. Im just annoyed that I didnt know that trick when I was young. Id have secreted a whole vegetable platter in my cheeks to be allowed to get down from the table and run around.

On the other hand, I failed to inherit some useful traits from my dad, John. Patience and mathematical ability are the two most glaringly obvious omissions. He certainly doesnt look back fondly upon Tuesday and Thursday nights when I had maths homework and, after a long day in the office, hed have to explain simultaneous equations to me for the tenth week in a row. He commuted into London every day Louise and I were at school he still did until just three years ago. I remember asking him how many days of his life hed wasted sitting on a train. In hindsight that probably wasnt the kindest way of thanking him for giving me an incredibly fortunate upbringing. He should have replied: At least it wasnt a total waste of time, unlike your maths lessons. Plus I paid for the bloody things.

His work ethic influenced me, Im sure, but also his ability to look at the most negative outcome of every situation. It is far too positive to say that hes a glass half empty kind of guy. He is more a smashed glass that some bloke is threatening you with down the pub kind of guy. When I sold my first house, I had a week before the sale was completed on the second so for seven days I was going to be very rich. I remember Dad warning me when I said I was going to put all the money in Barclays Bank

If it goes bust, youll only get eighteen per cent of your money back.

Dont be stupid, I told him. A bank isnt going to go bust.

This was before banks went bust.

Another line which might sum up his character was said in Sydney, when Id just won the Olympic gold. Congratulations, he said, now you can get a proper job.

Mum and Dad met at a youth club in Wimbledon when they were teenagers. But it could all have been very different. I could have had Nookie Bear as a stepbrother. Roger de Courcey, a guy who went on to win