I PULLED A FIRE ENGINE TODAY-BUT MISSED A GUINNESS RECORD

Image curtesy of Jeremy Lasek

Today I embarked on an attempt to break a Guinness record for the fastest time to pull a Fire engine 50 metres to highlight National PTSD awareness day and raise funds for Fearless PTSD, Australia and New Zealand who support those and their families affected by PTSD.

I’ve been undertaking strongman events for almost thirty years and consider myself reasonably experienced and knowledgeable in preparing and performing events like this. However, like many things in life, things don’t always go according to plan.

Three decades in the Australian Federal Police, and as an elite athlete and strongman, taught me that to achieve a desired outcome, meticulous preparation and planning is key in delivering a result.

I’ve been asked many times throughout my strongman career “what drives you to do what you do?” and although each event and purpose is unique, this event was personal for me.

Having been diagnosed in 2015 with PTSD, I’ve lived on the bumpy road to wellness and know how difficult it is to navigate and learn to live with the beast that never leaves me and how debilitating and a deadly PTSD can become.

PTSD, is a set of reactions that can occur after someone has been through a traumatic event and in Australia, over 1 million Australians at anyone time have PTSD and there is no doubt many others do, but don’t know it.? For the first time, the 2021 Australian Census undertaken by the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) asked about diagnosed long-term health conditions.

Mental health was identified as the most-reported long-term health condition confronting Australians today and research has shown that PTSD is the most common mental health disorder following depression.

I set about planning and training for this event about six months ago.

Although I’m now considered ‘old’ to be a strength athlete, I firmly believed, with a solid work ethic, quality nutrition, and a detailed recovery and sleep program, I could achieve my goal. Normally, a six-month program would be more than sufficient for me to control and prepare. What I couldn’t control through was when my PTSD would flare. A flare occurs when a trigger is experienced. Triggers differ and are as individual as our DNA and, for me, inevitably set off several comorbid physical and psychological responses. It usually meant I’d suffer uncontrollable fatigue, joint and muscle pain, gastroesophageal reflux, cognitive impairment, depression and, at its worst, suicidal ideations. Basically, I’d have to ride it out by deploying the tools I’ve learnt throughout my recovery to stop the downward spiral. I had factored the prospect of this into my extended preparation period and was comfortable that I would still achieve my goal. Yet, what I hadn’t factored was having to undergo a sixth shoulder surgery closely followed by contracting Covid 19 which significantly affected me and set me back about eight weeks.

I remember thinking, “life wasn’t meant to be easy” a famous quote by former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser, which he delivered at the esteemed Alfred Deakin lecture on 20 July 1971, where he famously made the quote, borrowed from the George Bernard Shaw play, ‘Back to Methuselah’, a phrase synonymous with a gloomy explanation of life’s difficulties.

Rather than surrender to these challenges, I kept going, working hard and preparing as best I could. I believed the cause was greater than the individual and I kept reminding myself of that. So, I was going to give it a ‘red hot crack’, as we say. This past Sunday I undertook my last test run and could move the fire engine with relative ease. This comforted the negative mindset that had dominated my thinking and gave me much confidence that today I would achieve my goal.

I arrived at the site early this morning at the Governor General’s residence in Canberra quietly confident “I had this”. The many helpers and support folk had diligently prepared the site, and all that was required was for me to do my job and get the engine to 50 metres.

I harnessed up, awaited the official start and when the horn started, got low, leant into the harness and explosively drove my legs and hips to get as much power as possible to move the engine as quickly as possible. It worked, and I was off. The pull was playing out how I imagined it. Spurred on by the crowd, I was in complete control. As I approached the 30 metre mark, I was ahead of the record time and then it happened. That inevitable and literal ‘bump in the road’ we often experience raised its ugly head. Suddenly, things weren’t going to plan. The engine slowed and as much as I tried to apply power, I wasn’t able to convert it to energy. I’d hit a tiny, unseen incline, enough to grind me to a halt. I kept trying, gaining some small moves forward, to the point my legs and calves were burning and the pain was setting in. As the time kept moving, I knew the record was slipping out of my reach, but I wanted to at least make it to the finish line as a consolation.

My mind was racing all over the place, negative thoughts crept in, self-doubt started consuming me and then a cathartic moment entered my head. As an avid Olympic Games fan, I often used analogies in some of my leadership discussions whilst I was in the AFP. The story goes back to October 1968, when the first Olympic Games were being staged in Latin America. It was one of the hottest Sunday afternoons of Mexico City when the men’s marathon started at 3:00 pm local time.

Out of 74 participants, 17 could not finish the race. At 7pm, it was almost an hour since all marathon runners had crossed the finishing line of 26-mile marathon on the gruelling hot day. Suddenly, a lone runner wearing the colours of Tanzania emerged through the stadium gate literally hobbling. It was so late in the evening someone had turned the stadium lights off. Cars were hurriedly deployed to light the pathway as the man emerged out of the darkness. It was John Stephen Akhwari who, while running, had fallen and had badly dislocated his knee.

Considering the severity of his injuries, Akhwari was repeatedly asked by officials to quit the race, but he declined. He dragged himself literally to the finish line, limping over the line in the dimly lit Olympic stadium. Upon finishing, he received a tremendous applause and almighty cheers from the remnants of the crowd who stayed behind. His body was exhausted, but not his spirit; his competitors passed him one by one, but his determination prevailed. Akhwari never won an Olympic medal, but he became the greatest example of a never-give-up spirit, and a tale of courage.

When he was asked the reason he kept going, he looked at the interviewer somewhat perplexingly and replied, “My country did not send me 10,000 miles just to start the race; they sent me to finish the race.” He would go onto be known as “the greatest last place finisher in Olympic history”.

Going back to Prime Minister Fraser’s Methuselah analogy, what many forget is the rest of the quote states “ .. my child; but take courage: it can be delightful.”

I’m certainly no John Stephen Akhwari, but as disappointed as I am that I wasn’t able to reach my goal today, I don’t view it as a failure. I view it as another step to further to achieving my personal goal and, just like the Methuselah analogy, I will take courage in the delight of making the attempt.

Though, I feel it achieved the purpose of undertaking this event in raising awareness of PTSD in the community and raising funds for Fearless to continue the great work they do in supporting those suffering with PTSD and their families.

I will now review the attempt, the process and the delivery and learn, just as I have and continue to do with my PTSD journey and rest assured, will make another attempt later in the year!

Now for some rest, ice, compression and elevation!