Claire Squires: an amazing testimony to the faith of human spirit

IT'S a testimony to the faith of human spirit and generosity that, at the time of writing, more than £600,000 has been raised for the Samaritans following the death last Sunday of London Marathon runner, Claire Squires.

The scale of generosity has been quite staggering for the 30-year-old hairdresser, who collapsed and died in Birdcage Walk near St James's Park after completing more than 25 miles of this gruelling challenge – she was just a bend away from the finish line in the Mall.

People from all over the world have made donations to her JustGiving page – in fact, 55,000 people have donated to Claire's cause, with the website saying it will waive its fees after a record number of visits to her page on Monday.

I last ran the London Marathon five years' ago on an absolutely blistering hot day in the capital. Temperatures that day peaked at 23.5c, with radiated heat from the road reaching an energy-sapping 27.5c. The race took its toll on the runners. It was carnage over the last 10km with dehydrated and cramping casualties lying on the side of the road wrapped in foil blankets, others retching into the gutters as St John Ambulance dealt with more than 5,000 people.

The race in 2007 also claimed the life of 22-year-old David Rogers, a fitness instructor from Milton Keynes, who collapsed again not far from the finish and later died in hospital. It was later discovered that he had died from drinking too much water – hyponatraemia or water intoxication, when there is so much water in the body that it dilutes vital minerals such as sodium to dangerous levels, leading to confusion, headaches and a fatal swelling of the brain.

For David Rogers and Claire Squires, they were the 10^th and 11^th runners to die after competing in the London Marathon since this showpiece event began in 1981.

The risk of dying on a marathon course is twice as high if you drive it than if you run it, Canadian researchers once found.

Life is a 24 hour risk, whether crossing the road or climbing a mountain. Wouldn't life be so dull and boring if we were constantly wrapped up in cotton wool? God forbid if the moronic and mindless health and safety crowd ever decided to bring a halt to marathons because of the remote risk of fatal injuries.

Following the death of David Rogers in 2007, in fact with any of the previous London Marathon deaths, all of whom were men, there was nothing like the amazing public reaction which has seen Claire Squires' fund-raising efforts spiral to such unbelievable proportions. When she set out from the start line in Greenwich last Sunday morning, her fund-raising for the Samaritans had reached a fairly modest £500.

So the question is, why the sudden interest in Claire Squires? Her death received the same initial media prominence as David's, but it is the level of fund-raising which has turned this snowballing story into a global one. Was it a sudden interest in the work of the Samaritans which pricked people's conscience? Maybe now we have hit a double dip recession, this story touched people's generosity as well as their hearts. Why did Claire Squires strike a philanthropic nerve?

Bluntly, one has to ask whether a key factor was a very pretty and photogenic female, whose smiling face in running kit and athletic poses, shone like a beacon from newspapers and websites to help foster the phenomenal fund-raising momentum. Had it been hairy old me, with the protruding tummy collapsing outside Buckingham Palace, would I have garnered so much support for my charity? Probably not.

Fair play to Claire and the Samaritans. Here was a gutsy young lady who had climbed Mount Kilimanjaro for charity and for whom the Samaritans was a cause close to her heart through her mother's involvement as a volunteer, and following the death of her brother of a drug overdose 10 years ago.

Reading the tributes from her friends, Claire was someone who was loyal and always helped others. I wonder what she makes of what has happened.

The London Marathon is an amazing running race, unlike any other. It is a spiritual experience driven by the fantastic levels of public support along the 26.2 mile route. When you think how greedy the world has become, driven by a grotesque selfishness and frequently a disdain at times for fellow man, the feelgood-frenzied atmosphere from the London Marathon restores your faith in human spirit. 

It is chicken soup for the soul.

Claire was an amazing woman, since taking on the marathon remains a supreme test of body and mind. For Claire, she will have left an amazing legacy from her short life. A legacy perpetuated thanks to the fantastic and unexpected outpouring of public generosity.

TODAY will forever be known as pain Friday!

It began with what was meant to be a gentle seven-and-a-half mile early morning run along the Solent on a beautiful sunny start to the day.

Ian the postie, who has become a regular running partner has decided that this time next year he and I will have tapered perfectly for the London Marathon. Based on my form this morning, I ran through the muddy clifftops and across rain-soaked field with weights seemingly in my shoes thinking 26 miles was merely a pipedream.

"This is as bad as it gets," I shouted to Ian, whose feet danced along the surface, running effortlessly off his toes; the soles of my shoes were weighted firmly back, my legs ached and my breathing laboured heavily.

We got round, though. It was miles in the bank, I stuck to the task, and once we increase the mileage I'm sure the aerobic fitness will return as the runs become a little more enjoyable. I'd certainly like a fourth tilt at the London Marathon, and will be watching enviously this Sunday at those lucky enough to take part in this year's carnival around the capital. It is like nothing else, a true spiritual experience.

With the wedding little more than a week away, my fiancee Alison had asked one favour before the nuptials. Would I get my back waxed?! The things we do for love!! I had my legs waxed as part of a charity fund-raiser five years ago, and didn't feel a thing. Today, it was 20 minutes of pure pain at the beauty salon where I'd chosen for this masochistic marriage appetiser.

The lady at the salon was nice enough as she poured on this hot liquid onto my back, and then preceded to rip the hairs of my back. Never mind it smarting, this absolutely hit the pain threshold roof. I didn't want to show any pain,  or make any wimpering noise - the humiliation would have been too much. Instead, as part of distraction therapy, we chatted about the lady's own wedding plans - she's getting married in Lapland next February in an ice palace, taken there by a carriage drawn by reindeer. I bet her fiance isn't have his hairs ripped off his back.

Anyway, I survived the ordeal and Alison is delighted. But I feel like a plucked chicken as my back feels all sticky and wet. I have no idea why women put themselves through the ordeal waxing. I was definitely not feeling my feminine side lying on the couch of the beauty salon, stripped to my shorts while seeing the lady put these waxing strips filled with thick, black hair into the bin. I should have kept the waxing strips and presented them to Alison as a wedding present.

And so to complete the day, there could have been nothing better than a trip to the dentist for some root canal treatment, which took over an hour, didn't hurt physically, but financially, crickey O'Reilly! That's me on salad for the next month.

It's all systems go, though, for the wedding. I'm envious of my friend Emma who this week jetted off with her fiance Simon to get married in Jamaica - just the two of them. Ours is very much a family affair, but while the temptation to head off to get married on a sun-kissed beach is enormously tempting, there can be nothing better than sharing the day with family and friends, some of whom you haven't seen for quite a time.

At least come our wedding next week, I'll be a little bit fitter, I'll have my teeth fixed and whitened, and a hairless back! Sorted!!

Forgive me blogging father, for I have sinned....

FORGIVE me father, it's been six long months since my last confessional blog. I've become such a badly lapsed blogger. It's not because I didn't have the time, father, or even the inclination to sit down and write; writing is, after all, what I do professionally and have done for more than 30 years.

No, the reason I've lapsed badly is because I've had nothing to say. I've written newspaper columns for many years, based on the first rule of communication; if you've got nothing interesting to say, then don't say it!

Not that this basic principle has prevented a hideous clogging of the social media arteries by tedious Tweets and boring blogs from folks who want to reveal to the world what they had to breakfast or dinner, intricate details of travel plans, or the latest office gossip. What is the world coming to? Get a bleedin' life, I say!

Don't get me wrong, Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn and their various acolytes have opened up a whole new exciting world of information. Working in the media, we've had to up our game considerably in recent years to a new level, and we're still trying to keep up after a sluggish start. We are no longer custodians of news and information. Our cosy environment has been disrupted. Fifteen years ago, we would have no truck with the internet and the world wide web. To newspaper men back in the mid-90s, the world wide web was the devil incarnate. Now, it is the mother of necessity and if we don't embrace it properly, then we will die.

No, it's how the social media is used today which freaks me out. There is so much chaff that it really is hard to distinguish the wheat. It's like being stuck in an overcrowded pub with so many inane conversations spinning around that those half decent ones, those with any semblance of value, go straight over your head.

The mundaneness of social media sometimes beggars belief, notably the blogs and Tweets of so-called professionals who, pre-Twitter, would always have thought cautiously before giving a considered opinion on any subject, especially those reaching the public domain. Now these experienced communicators, and footballers, open themselves up with off-the-cuff observations which lack perspective or any sense of trust or respect.

So will mine me any different, or will it be another boorish blog?  Truthfully, that's in the eye of the reader.

Well, there's enough material bobbing around in my small life to offer something which could be readable - I'm getting married in two weeks' time, work has taken a fresh turn in the past year taking me to a new part of the country, I'm in the midst of organising a Doughnut Race during the Olympic Games, while training for the London Marathon in 2012, and I have an opinion or two.

These views on my blog are my own, they're not plagarised and are often written with tongue firmly in cheeck. If you like them, then say so, if you don't, well there are plenty of other interesting geekish blogs to digest.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee........